


When the River Meets the Sea

by heroin__e



Category: Percy - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Road Trips, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 63,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroin__e/pseuds/heroin__e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico di Angelo should be his best friend. He looks over, meeting Nico’s eyes; Nico, who looks patient and a little embarrassed for some reason, and he thinks, why isn’t he? </p>
<p>Or: Wherein Nico has an incurable case of being a martyr, Percy grows to hate The Muppets, and Poseidon surprises the both of them with a bouncing baby demigod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the River Meets the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosarycrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosarycrown/gifts).



> So, this came to be like this: I started writing and then didn’t stop and somehow it got to be way longer than I thought it would be, and here we are. I’ve spent nearly two months obsessing over writing this, and then hating it, and then editing, and then writing some more obsessively for a few days, etc, etc, until finally, it was about finished. 
> 
> Basically, I wanted to write a road-trip fic, because they are the absolute best, and I wanted to explore one of my favorite tropes, wherein a baby is haphazardly thrown into the mix, and this was the lovechild. But if you’re looking for a reference point, asking yourself, “Yeah, but what is this story comparable to?” Just go watch the episode of SpongeBob where they raise a baby clam because midway through I realized that’s what I was writing. It’s basically one continuous punch line, with a couple of plot points and icky friendship-turned-romance/slow build junk scattered between. So I hope you’re into that! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who listened to me whine about it, to everyone who showed their support when I posted the word-count, but mostly to Sam, who helped me through so much, and slapped me across the face when I needed to shut up and just write, and read and reread and reread at least eight times. You are a wonderful person, a phenomenal Co-Bun, and one of my very best friends, and I’m honored that you, as smart and talented as you are, think this is so good as to continually support me through out. I love you, you big gay nerd.

**|** Δ **|**

 

Rachel Elisabeth Dare can best be to compared to a bouquet of flame-colored flowers, with shiny petals and torn up paper keeping them tied together. Or the sun at high noon, unforgiving and bright.

 

But in the dead of night, in the middle of a ferocious storm Percy sleeps through all too easily, he instead compares her to a flood in the way that she is loud and gets his cabin floors wet, kicking his door downs with all of the ferocity a 5’3” school girl/Oracle of Delphi could muster and more.

 

“Percy,” She hisses, drawing her hood down unto her shoulders as the son of Poseidon gets to his feet and slips up with all the grace of a fish out of water. “Are you awake?”

 

Percy is wide-eyed and on his feet when she asks this, and their eyes are locked, and Rachel looks at him like she is expecting an answer. He raises an eyebrow, straightening up his form and glancing down his chest to make sure he is presentable, before reminding himself that the satyrs aren’t blowing their horns and there is no backdrop of camper’s feet running amok the campgrounds outside. It’s only Rachel, even if she does look crazed and frantic. He relaxes.

 

“Clearly,” he says, casually, as he runs a hand through his elegant bed-head. “What’s wrong? Have a nightmare?” 

 

Rachel isn’t listening (Percy doesn’t think she is, at least; a remark like that really should’ve earned him a nasty look). She steps inside Cabin III and closes the doors behind her, looking around, as if she is on the run from something and seeking shelter.

 

“Seen you in the ocean,” she mumbles frantically, pulling her hair out from under her green parka. She’s pacing now, worrying her curly tips around her small fingers, and Percy can see her serious expression illuminated when the lightning strikes. “With a shark of a man, not human. And a hooded figure, and then there’s fire and it’s dark. And, and l—I mean, I usually dream premonitions all the time but I’m still—still getting flashes of it now and I can’t make it all out—“

 

“Hey,” Percy interjects, closing the distance between them and bringing his hands to her shoulders. He pulls from that place in his heart that lives off people and their happiness and offers her a smile. “This storm’s almost done. Think it’s a Poseidon Kid thing, but I can tell you that much. I’m standing in my PJ’s in my cabin, _mostly_ dry.” He gives a mock mean look, and she actually twitches a small smile for him. “I don’t see any sharks. And do you see any hooded figures?”

 

Just as Rachel looks to be calming down, her eyes shift to look over Percy’s shoulder, and she quickly descends back into panic. She grabs one of the vases to the side of the doors, shoves Percy to the side with more strength than he could imagine coming from her tiny hands, and hurls a huge glass vase full of saltwater and seashells upward so that it may gracefully descend upon the covered head of one hooded figure.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

The hooded figure in question is one Nico di Angelo, and although Rachel and Percy instinctively freak out about that, after dragging him through the dying storm into Chiron’s personal cabin, Percy quickly gets tired of shaking him and goes back to his own cabin. He comes back with the other, unbroken vase, and empties water, shells, and one crab unto the sleeping boy’s face.

 

He sputters with all the grace of an alley cat getting a bath, all but clawing at Percy’s arms to shove him away as he chokes out, “Jesus, Jackson!” as if it was Percy that knocked him out. “I’m a camper, not a demon!” He rubs the top of his head, pushing the hood of his bomber jacket down to his shoulders as he shoots a look at Rachel, who straightens her shoulders and fixes him with a glare that the Ares cabin would no doubt collectively dub as impressive. He looks away after that, deciding not to rise to her challenge, or acknowledge her part in his maybe-concussion at all. “What, are you trying to get me into your amnesia club? Not a true Big Three Kid till I can’t remember my own name?”

 

Percy shrugs, setting the vase down calmly, and sitting down across from Nico. The room is quite a sight to behold – tidy and quaint, dark reds and browns with coffee colored accents and book-filled shelves, pictures lining the wall, and two demigods and a virgin oracle in various stages of disarray perched on different places. Percy Jackson, in blue-and-white checkered boxers and a Coke t-shirt, obviously freshly pulled out of a deep sleep, Rachel Elisabeth Dare, her hair a frizzy, wet mess, panic and dogged determination fighting for dominance in her facial expression, and Nico di Angelo, Death’s Son, the grumpiest the room has seen him and picking a small crab out from his coat’s sleeves. Chiron beholds them in silent irritation and a sort of mother hennish quality he can never quite work out of his system.

 

“Percy,” the Centaur says, patiently. “Rachel. Nico. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Nico shifts, mouth open and ready to tell his tale, but before the first syllable is pushed out, he chances a look at Rachel, whose gaze is just as intimidating as ever. He closes his mouth, dramatically waving to her and mumbling, “Ladies first,” as he sits back into the leather chair Percy dumped him into.

 

Nodding, Rachel faces Chiron and clears her throat, and Percy marvels at how well she is at masking her panic. One could hardly believe she’d been in the state she was in when she burst into his cabin as she begins to speak.

 

“I have, these last few hours,” she begins, like a machine rattling off statistics, “been having a series of premonitions involving Percy.”

 

Chiron glances over at Percy, the both of them perfectly composed and serious, while Nico mumbles, “would you get _off_ ,” to the crab from the vase.

 

“Mostly,” Rachel continues. “It involves the ocean and children crying.” She makes a face, a cross between smelling something foul and trying to remember a long-forgotten memory. “And Percy. And… A bird? A bird and a maelstrom of fire. And I just get a bad vibe from it. I keep seeing it replay over and over, and it’s so urgent, like I need to be doing something about it right now or—“

 

“Well,” interjects Chiron, shifting in his wheelchair, “I’m sorry to say you won’t be doing anything about it. But it sounds like you’ve found Percy a new quest.”

 

“Oh, sure,” waves Percy, jokingly, and as good-natured as ever. “Creepy hooded figures, oceans…” he pauses, then, after a moment, goes through with the thought and waves at Nico, “Upsetting children, I mean.” He shrugs and Nico makes a face, as if that actually offended him, before pulling his grumpy face back on and crossing his arms snug across his chest. “It’s in my job description.”

 

The room is quiet, as Chiron thinks this over, and Percy looks around the room, almost bored. Rachel is about to clear her throat when Nico goes, “Is it my turn now, _sir_?”

 

Chiron is about to tell him that there’s no need for animosity, then realizes he is dealing with three sleep-deprived teenagers, and simply waves at Nico, a sigh caught in his throat. “Sure. Please – Nico, what’s your news?”

 

And Nico, eyes half lidded and legs crossed casually, says, in a single, uninterested breath, “My dad and his fates want to kill the new child of Poseidon.”

 

And it could be his imagination, but Percy swears the wind stops howling outside just as the words are said. He groans.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Chiron ushers them to bed, they all sleep as soundly as they can with the news (save Nico, who is out like a light), and the next morning, Percy begins his day like any other.

 

There’s a strange feeling stirring unsteadily inside him as he brushes his teeth and readies himself for the day, but he can’t quite name it. It’s not apprehension. He’s not nervous. But there’s some outlandish annoyance there, and he can’t figure out who to pin it on. If he’s honest, he wants to Iris his father and give him a piece of his mind, but, savior of the world or not, Percy is not so precious that Poseidon wouldn’t at least put him through a rigorous punishment for that, he’s sure.

 

He tries, instead, to pin the blame on Nico, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it’s served as Percy’s last resort enough times to count here, too. He knows he doesn’t have a right to blame the son of death, and he knows he’s got more against his words than the boy himself, but still. He thinks of Nico’s face, all dark and gloomy as he leaned back in Chiron’s chair and told them the news, and he gets angry.

 

How did Nico even know? And, as awful as the thought is, as sick as it makes Percy once it’s entered his head, why did he have to tell them? Why did he shadow-travel straight to Percy’s room, why did Percy have to be the first to know? Why is everything his responsibility?

 

“You don’t have to do everything,” he’s sure Annabeth had told him once. He’d scoffed at her then, and he scoffs at her now, because here he is. And Percy isn’t trying to be bitter but – sometimes it just gets tiring, having all that weight on your shoulders all the time.

 

He splashes some freshwater in his face and runs a hand through his hair, and when he looks over, there is Nico.

 

“Hades!” Percy jumps off the ground and silently denies the crack in his voice on that exclamation, and beholds Nico in his disinterested glory. “How did you—why do you always have to _do_ that? Why can’t you use a door like a normal person?”

 

Nico blinks at him, with his owlish eyes. “I did use the door,” he says, a silent _you idiot_ tacked onto the edge of that sentence Percy hears all too well as he points over his shoulder. “I guess your heroes instincts aren’t as sharp as they used to be.”

 

“You—“ Percy looks over to the door, and, yeah, it’s half open. He double-takes back to Nico, who’s looking at all the seashells placed around Percy’s sink casually. “Wait, why did you—you never just walk somewhere.”

 

“First he’s _mad_ I shadow-travelled,” Nico mumbles, kicking at the floor, “ _then_ he’s mad I didn’t. Heroes.” He tries to fix Percy with a look that calls on self-righteous but comes up short with the look of a boy who never quite gets enough sleep. The bags under his eyes are all too easy to inspect up close in the natural, bright light coming in to Cabin III. “I can’t shadow-travel right now,” he says, like he’s embarrassed. “…My dad won’t let me.”

 

And Percy starts to parrot back, just to be sure, “Your dad won’t--,” but then he bursts into uproarious laughter and nearly hits his head on the sink. “—Dad won’t let you? What’re you, grounded?” Then, as an afterthought: “Can they do that?”

 

Nico shrugs in a way that can only be described as viciously. It’s the angriest motion of indifference Percy’s ever seen. “He’s put some block on me,” he says, like he’s a cell-phone for kids. “I can’t draw any power from the underworld. So I can’t move through shadows, and I can’t summon the dead. He Iris’d me last night and said…” He groans here, half like he’s embarrassed and half like he’s angry. “Said it’d be good for both of us.”

 

Percy tidies up the shell he knocked over when Nico appeared as the other boy turns on his heels and begins to stroll around the cabin. His fingers graze over the trident of Poseidon’s statue as he takes leisurely steps. “I would’ve liked to explain all of that to you last night,” he says, and pivots so he’s glaring at Percy. “But Rachel nearly gave me a concussion and then Chiron was all upset about you not getting your beauty sleep.”

 

Percy shrugs and follows him, his pace just as slow. It’s been a long time since he and Nico had time to themselves. Usually Nico just shows up in their group, or they talk quick and hushed. But the way Nico speaks to him makes him forget that his half-sibling is out there, ready to die and waiting for Percy to rescue him.

 

“He’s just trying to figure out how big of a deal this is,” he says, eyes searching, making little notes of what he should clean before he leaves. “He doesn’t know whether to call a meeting in the Big House, or if Rachel’s gonna dish out a prophecy, or what. Plus, we woke him up at three in the morning.”

 

Cabin III is pretty spacious, all things considered. There are places for other beds, but it’s just Percy in here for now, and Tyson’s bed is packed up next to it. He wonders if he should buy a crib, and smiles at the floor.

 

“Hades is afraid,” says Nico, suddenly grave. His hand is still placed restfully on Poseidon’s Trident. “He thinks another child of the sea will mean even worse news for him. I mean, I don’t know if you noticed.” He makes a vague hand motion at Percy. “But my dad’s not exactly your biggest fan. Lotta’ heroes have moseyed their way downstairs, but you’ve caused more trouble in not even two decades than most have in a whole millennia.”

 

Percy doesn’t argue. He’s had some grave encounters with the Lord of the Dead, but he never thought for a second that Hades was _afraid_ of him. Nico makes it sound like Hades starts shaking at the very thought of two Percy Jacksons. He lets himself have a quiet, smug little smile, facing away from Nico.

 

“So,” continues Nico, inspecting Poseidon closely now. “He’s been on the look out for Zeus and Poseidon kids, making sure everyone’s even. Two for him – Hazel and I – Thalia and Jason for Zeus, and, please don’t let this go to your head, but I guess he counts you as two, with all the havoc you wreak.”

 

It goes straight to Percy’s head, in record time. He raises his eyebrows up and down at Nico, who groans in response, rolling his big eyes dramatically.

 

“Now,” he continues, tracing a finger down Poseidon’s marble robes and inspecting his hand afterwards. “I have a general feel of where this kid is. I’ve always been good at finding people, and demigods give off their own sort of… scent.” He rubs his fingers on his jacket like Poseidon’s statue left a residue and then stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s basically all I’ve got right now, since dad’s shut off the shadow lanes and the dead are on strict rule not to answer me.”

 

“You’re totally grounded,” interjects Percy, quietly.

 

“That puts us on real borrowed time, Percy,” says Nico, suddenly angry. Like he can’t believe Percy would joke at a time like this. “I can help you locate your brother, or sister, or whatever, but I can’t get you there through the shadows. I just have a vague direction, I don’t have the coordinates or anything like that, and I don’t know of any other forms of mystical transportation. Hades could kill the child at any time. Which gives us one more option, and you are going to owe me something fierce for it because it’ll get me in even bigger trouble.”

 

Percy leans on one of the columns holding up the cabin’s roof and raises an eyebrow. “I do love getting you in trouble. What’s that?”

 

Nico pulls one of his hands out of his pocket, and flashes Percy two golden drachmas. “Hades can’t just kill a demigod for no reason – especially not a child of the big three. That’d just start a war, and he’s not interested in fighting. His bet on this is to kill the child before they can be claimed. We have to set Poseidon on the child’s trail so he can claim them or at least get them to safety.”

 

Percy wonders, for moment, what Nico would do if some god was trying to kill his would-be godsibling. Given his relationships with dead sisters, and his fierce protectiveness of Hazel, he can only imagine the utter chaos the son of death would leave in his wake. There’s no doubt in Percy’s mind Nico’s fury wouldn’t part the sea itself if Poseidon was behind a scheme like this, or that he wouldn’t build a tower of the undead just to claw Zeus out of the sky.

 

And Percy just… can’t empathize, he guesses. He’s never had a sibling, not a true one. He has Tyson, who is family like Annabeth and the other campers are, but it’s hard to look at him and think _family_. He means a lot to Percy, but it’s different somehow.  He’s never had a Bianca, or a Hazel, and for the first time in a long time, he thinks of the small boy Nico used to be, and he thinks of how he saw the light strip itself out of Nico’s huge, oil-black eyes when he gave him the Hades figurine and told him about Bianca’s selfless death. He shakes the thought out of his head, literally shaking his head as he approaches Nico and grabs the drachmas out of his hand.

 

Does he imagine the animosity in Nico’s eyes? Does he imagine the sneer he can see that Nico wants to give him? He wonders if Nico’s still bitter like Percy’s still guilty.

 

“My dad doesn’t just take calls,” he says, though he plants himself in front of the fountain anyway. “He runs an entire kingdom - and not just one full of bones.” Tossing the coins in, he waits for Nico to join him on the floor before he stirs the pool and waves at the ripples.

 

“Oh, Iris,” he chants, “Messenger Goddess. Show me Poseidon, Lord of the Sea.”

 

Percy likes sending Iris Messages through the water, especially when he needs to contact his dad. It’s a little more personal that way, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel the most natural way to contact someone. He likes to skirt his fingertips over the waves the coins create, the faintest of touches, the quietest hello.

 

He can almost feel this water shift from the water of the lake to the water of the ocean below – can almost smell the salt, and it smells like home.

 

“Percy,” says Poseidon’s warm, rumbling voice, and it feels like a gentle wave taking him under. “Good morning. What do you need, son?”

 

Percy glances a look over at Nico after he sees his father do the same, and he takes note both of the way that Poseidon quietly acknowledges the boy next to him, and the way the boy next to him is the stiffest Percy’s ever seen him. “Dad,” he begins, as he nudges Nico with his elbow in a way that says, _don’t be weird_. “Nico has come with some… news. And it’s very urgent.”

 

His words are slow, as if speaking too fast will cause Nico to falter. But he doesn’t. He just stares ahead like he’s looking his very death in the eyes. He gulps as Poseidon gives his nephew his full attention.

 

“Hmm, why do I get the feeling this isn’t good news?” He asks, and Percy wonders if Poseidon is this lax and casual with everyone, or if it’s just for Percy. “Speak, nephew. What news do you bring me?”

 

“S-Sir,” Nico mumbles, straightening his posture. “I-I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me, and I hate to, um, be the bringer of bad news. But.” He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and then says, all at once. “My father has located your newest son and/or daughter and is trying to kill it. Them.”

 

When Percy looks back to Poseidon, he finally gets a look at him not as Daddy Dearest, but as the Wrathful God of the Tides. His large eyebrows are furrowed down and his eyes are wild with the unbridled wrath of a storm passing over the sea.

 

“Hades wants the death of my newborn,” he echoes. “Why?”

 

“Well,” says Nico, taking one peek at the look in Poseidon’s eyes before settling his own on the floorboards. “He’s, um, pretty much scared. Percy—Your son, erm—Percy’s not my Dad’s favorite demigod and he’s—Well, he ‘doesn’t want another one of him running around,’ in his own words. I think he’s scared it’ll… make you too powerful?”

 

Poseidon scoffs, and the water bubbles slightly. “Too powerful. My brother has always been a coward under all those dark robes and skulls.” He glances back at Nico, and says, almost gently, “no offense.”

 

Nico only raises a hand up and purses his lips, a silent, _none taken_. “Um, he wouldn’t think of starting a war, though – which is what this will get him, but only if you know of it.”

 

Percy watches them. Nico gets a little bit more confident, and he can’t help but think it’s nice to see him blossom as a true diplomat, something he’s always known Nico would be. He’s good at talking to people, under all that grumpiness.

 

“His plan, I believe, is to kill the child before they can make it to camp, and before you can claim them. This way, no one knows he’s done anything. But if he kills the child after your name is stamped on them, well.” Nico waves his hand to the side, as if to say, _you know_. “That’ll just start a fight, which he’s doesn’t have a history of winning. On his own, at least.”

 

Poseidon chuckles at this, creating a gentle ripple in the wave though his laugh is boisterous.

 

“You want me to claim the child now? Percy, how do you feel about that?”

 

Percy is shocked back into the conversation, and gives a sheepish smile at being pulled back into it. “Well, that’s tricky,” he says, looking upward and weighing the possibilities. “I mean, it depends on the mother, right?”

 

At this, Nico coughs into his fist, casually addressing Percy and not his father. “Um… Yeah, about that. The mother is dead. That’s how Hades found out about the kid, I think. Her name was… Kama-something? Kaima… Ka-ee—“

 

“Kaimaue?” Grief strikes the sea gods face, a look Percy is certain he’s never seen, and it pains him in a strange way.

 

He knows his father is not mortal. He can’t hold it against Poseidon to be unfaithful, or something human like that, because it doesn’t apply. But although he’s not a man, he can still hurt. Percy looks away, as though he isn’t worthy to see this side of his father. He uses this time to slip another drachma into the pool.

 

Nico says nothing, but Percy thinks he nods, and Poseidon looks down and stills his grief. “A wonderful woman,” he muses, as though he’s forgotten about his guests. “I can only hope that…”

 

He goes off to say something, but it’s so quiet, and Nico and Percy both feel as though they’ve stumbled onto something too personal for them to hear, and so they turn a blind eye, glancing at each other. After a beat, Nico opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally speaking.

 

“If you… If you like,” he says, very gently, “I can summon her, after we find the child. And we can tell her that they’re safe with us and that you’ll watch over them…?”

 

There is a silence, like Poseidon didn’t hear him, and then he nods, gravely. “Yes,” he says, solemnly, looking between Percy and Nico. “That would be fair. I will send word through the currents and waters, and guide you on your quest. Follow the streams and trust the tides, and leave Hades to me. And Nico.”

 

Nico goes from vaguely comfortable to white as a sheet from panic in a second, but Poseidon only smiles at him. “No favor for the sea kingdom goes unnoticed. The sea, how do you say it, owes you one.”

 

Which is pretty hilarious, Percy can’t help but think, after all the shit Nico’s pulled on him. He can see Nico’s thinking the same thing, but stifles his laughter when the son of death says, intelligently, “Um, yeah, thanks.”

 

With another exuberant chuckle, Poseidon sprays Nico in the face with water and Iris the messenger goddess cuts the call short.

 

Nico can’t help but notice, after his shriek, that Percy laughs just like his father.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Rachel doesn’t dish out any prophecy. She twitches when she gets another premonition and she scribbles it down in one of her tattered notebooks, but she doesn’t do that thing where her eyes go green and she speaks in the raspy voice of Delphi, which is great, because it really creeps the younger campers out - and Percy to some degree, if he’s being honest.

 

He makes his way over to her, Nico rubbing water out of his eyes and following him, and they recount their meeting with the Sea God. They tell her how Poseidon said he’d take care of Hades, whatever that meant, and how the water sprites were ready to help him, and how they’d pretty much been put on a quest so they guessed they should be leaving soon.

 

“What, now?” Rachel slams her notebook shut, standing up so she can give Percy her mean look closer to his face. She hardly comes to his nose, barely a few inches shorter than Nico himself, but man, can she give the angriest pout Percy’s ever seen. She even gives Nico a run for his money. “You’re just gonna waltz out with—“

 

She glances at Nico, who regards her with a look that lays somewhere between exhausted and bored and fed up with the world around him. It’s basically his usual look, sans the anger that typically lingers in his eyes. Rachel doesn’t finish her sentence, but both boys can guess what she’s about to say. Nico doesn’t even have the decency to try and finish her thought or act offended – he just stares, which seems to make it worse. His complacency to be called the odd man out seems to rattle Rachel more than Nico getting upset would have.

 

Rachel looks away, and looks to be ready to mumble an apology, but Nico shrugs and sighs out, “Look. I know no one’s itching to thrust any kid into my arms – I’m not exactly jumping to get my hands on the little tyke, anyway – but you and I are the only ones who can sniff people out, and from what I understand, Chiron has a strict No Oracle’s On Quests rule.” He flicks his eyes on Percy, who resists the urge to jump back from the sheer bluntness and bite to Nico’s words. “Now, I’m not going to be selling I Heart Poseidon Kids t-shirts anytime soon, but one – I just don’t trust Percy to take care of a young kid by himself, and two – if my dad shows up trying to take his tantrum out on him, I’m probably the only one who can convince him not to kill _both_ Poseidon kids on the spot.”

 

“What, you don’t trust me with the little guy?” Percy interjects, trying desperately to lighten the mood. He is rewarded with the dry looks of both Nico and Rachel, whose powers combined nearly disintegrates him on the spot. “OK, OK, geez – I was just trying to—“

 

“The point is,” Nico finishes, beginning to sound exasperated. “Percy needs to go because the naiads like him best, and Poseidon issued him the man for the job, and I need to go because I’m best with any dead people my dad throws at him – himself including – and am the resident Demigod Tracking Machine.” He looks to the side, inspecting camp like he’s looking for something. “Now, unless you’d like to get a third person in on this whose powers lend to taking care of small children, I suggest you let us— _Ow_!”

 

Nico never finishes his rant, because a hand comes down on the side of his head seemingly out of nowhere, successfully breaking him out of his snark, and when Percy looks up, there’s Clarisse, who didn’t even have the grace to look at him while she hit him. She rolls her eyes and huffs, placing her elbow on top of Nico’s head. She fixes her eyes on Rachel and goes, “Thing One and Two giving you any trouble, Rachel?”

 

Rachel steadies her shoulders, looking posh as royalty and looks away. “No,” she sighs. “But thank you. They’re going on a quest to get a new child and seem stark to tear apart my advice.”

 

Nico tries to wiggle his head from under Clarisse’s elbow, but she nudges him with her knee and goes, “Quiet, you,” and he stops, pouting indignantly at the ground and resolving to his fate.

 

Clarisse says, “Uh,” and gives a sort of half-smile, amused. “Has Percy finally been demoted to satyr? Because last I heard, that’s what protectors are for.”

 

“It’s _different_ ,” hisses Nico, voice full of spite, and it’s real easy for Percy to remember how young he is under Clarisse’s arm. “Its a _little_ kid and Hades wants to kill it.”

 

At this, Clarisse lets go of Nico and fixes Percy with a harsh look. She doesn’t look angry, just grave, and she worries her lower lip and glances at the group before finally speaking.

 

“How little’re we talking,” she says, her voice low.

 

Rachel answers, “Like, maybe a year old. At best,” which is news to Percy. For some reason he was imagining a _kid_ -kid not a _baby_ -kid, and the ideas he’d cooked up about making water puns to a little boy are suddenly ripped out from under him, replaced with burping babies and nights arguing with Nico about who has to change it.

 

He hazards a look at Nico, who is still shrunken and little, and who looks back at him like, _Yeah. I_ know _._

 

But Clarisse is obviously more upset about the news than he is, judging by the way she stiffens and glares hard at the ground. Percy sees her draw from the anger-management tricks Chris had taught her as she closes her eyes and breathes hard through her nose. “Who,” she seethes, slowly, “in their right mind… would try and kill a kid?”

 

It occurs to Percy that Clarisse is one of the oldest of the Ares Cabin, and as the den mother/head, there’s no way she isn’t fiercely protective of all the little troublemakers running around in there. He recounts all of her somehow affectionate slaps to the back of little Ares heads, all of her quiet praise to the younger kids when she thought no one was looking, and how she’d charged in front of her siblings with her electric spear back in the War on Typhon, shooing the rest of her cabin mates back. She hadn’t been fighting just to fight. She was fighting to protect them – and Percy wonders if she lost any. He’d never asked.

 

And so again, he puts someone else in his position, and he pictures Clarisse leading an army of angry Ares Kids across country to San Francisco just to kick down Hades’s door and ransack the underworld in the name of their father. Then he imagines Clarisse taking care of a baby and shakes the image out of his head.

 

Nico explains, while Percy fantasizes, about Hades’s apparent fear of Poseidon Kids, and of how they’d already contacted the Sea God, and how the only thing left to do now is go and get the kid, and then finally how they really needed to get on that.

 

Clarisse nods sternly, looking around and thinking. “Well,” she goes, sighing a little. “I’d lend you a chariot but we’re fresh out. Plus, not exactly baby-proof. I guess your best bet is…” She pauses. “A car.”

 

And Percy’s all about that, because he can drive and he never gets to and it isn’t fair. It seems like every time he can almost use his license, something happens that makes it so he can’t. He is itching to go on a road trip suddenly, but Nico doesn’t look so excited.

 

“That doesn’t sound very,” he looks to Rachel, then Percy, and bites out, “Demigod-y. I mean, I don’t know – I guess I had it in my head that everything had to be enchanted and hailing from Greek Mythos, but, yeah, yeah I guess a car is the way to do it, isn’t it.”

 

Clarisse shrugs, puts her hands on her hips, and squints up at the sun. “Yeah,” she goes, “And I can think of only one place to get a car for the job.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Leo is ecstatic to hear the news. 

 

He hears ‘car’ and goes, “a _car_ -car?” like there’s any other kind of car. “Because if you’re hoping to find some enchanted, at-the-ready mustang Charles Beckendorf left for us, you’ve come to the wrong cabin.”

 

He’s covered in grease, as per usual, and is helping two other Hephaestus kids make some mystical sort of shield, but he leaves the work to them when Nico and Percy, flanked on either side by Rachel and Clarisse, wonder in to the workroom of Cabin IX.

 

And Leo doesn’t ask questions, which is nice, after explaining the whole of their quest to the girls accompanying Percy. He just gets right down to business, starts asking questions about cars Percy and Nico don’t know the answer to, so he just waves at them and goes, “bah!” Then he starts pacing and talking to himself, a very Leo thing to do. Eventually, he stops, and rushes up to them, waving a wrench in one hand to accentuate his points.

 

“So, I’m guessing you’re not strained for comfort, right? You just want something that’ll get you there and get you there fast – right. Alright, well, that’s, hm.” He stops then, and turns to his brothers and sisters. “Don’t we have a junkyard?”

 

At this, Nico scowls, pouting his lips out slightly. “We want a car, not a piece of junk.”

 

“No, no, no!” Leo makes a face, waves at Nico like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, then nods as some girl in the corner makes some noises that sound like yeah, they’ve got a junkyard. “Right. It’s not a junkyard, per se, well I mean it is, but—we’re inventors! We can’t just buy stuff and bring it back here. We just take what we can get, pull parts off whatever comes in, you know. I’m sure we’re bound to have a car or something like it in our scrap heap.”

 

And Percy’s not sure if scrap heap is worse or better than junkyard, but he doesn’t protest about going to look. He deeply hates being underground, and Cabin IX is so dark and dirty – dirty in a way that there are grease marks everywhere and oil dripping from like seven different places. They’re quick to get out of the place, Leo ushering them towards the door then pulling them towards some place they might, if they luck out, find a car.

 

“Don’t suppose you’d like to come with them,” says Clarisse, all smooth and ladylike, and Percy frowns because how dare she pretend to be a lady.

 

But Leo just barks out a laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Depends on where they’re going. But they haven’t said, so I’m not asking.” Percy thinks he winks at Nico, but he’s not sure, so he doesn’t say anything about it.

 

Percy tries to play it off like it’s no big deal, so he scratches the tip of his nose with the top of his finger and shrugs. “We’re just gonna go pick up a kid, is all. No big deal.”

 

“Yeah, a Poseidon Kid,” mumbles Rachel, and Percy shoots her a dirty look that says _why are you so bitter about this? Geez!_

 

“Oh yeah?” Goes Leo, a bounce in his step as he takes them to the junkyard. “That’s nice. Nah, think the youngins need me for the weaponstuff we’re making. Got a whole list of replacements we’re backed up on – I can never quite figure out who’s breaking all the shields in training. Yeah, there it is!” He turns a corner, and yeah, just like he said, about the edge of camp is just this big junkyard.

 

And Percy emphasizes the _junk_ , because it looks like a big dumpster. Like, there might be a car or two, hiding behind the towers of miscellaneous stuff. It’s ridiculous – There’s a mattress and an old TV piled up right in front.

 

They all look at it for a while, Leo with his hands on his hips, proud as pumpkin pie, the girls clearing their throats quietly behind him. It is Nico who finally breaks the silence, with a, “is this it?”

 

Leo zips around, pain written across his face, and Percy can’t tell if it’s genuine or if he’s just that dramatic. “What? Well—“ He turns back to the yard, then does a few double-takes before fiddling with his wrench again like he’s been caught at doing something bad. “…Yeah. I mean—”

 

“Leo,” bites Nico, balling his big hands into fists. “We’re trying to save a kid from getting killed and we really don’t have time to sort through Cabin IX’s _trash_. So either there’s a perfectly good car in there, _not_ piled under junk, or we start walking because—“

 

“OK, OK!” Leo throws his hands up as if to say _no more, please_ , then runs his hands through his hair and blows out a big sigh, clearly frazzled. Percy recounts, quietly, all the times Leo’s moved to the side when Nico’s come around, and nearly laughs at the thought that he might be afraid of the little guy.

 

Then again, the little guy did rip the title Ghost King from one of the most powerful kings in history when he was like, twelve. And he can summon the dead whenever he wants – hell, he had skeletons construct the Hades cabin for him. And he does move around through the shadows in a way Percy can’t really describe even though Nico’s taken him through the shadow lanes plenty of times by now. Alright, maybe he’s kind of a creepy guy, now that he thinks about it.

 

“Well,” says Leo, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… The only way to find one is to start looking, right? And hey, if it is piled under some junk, well, that’s what Clarisse is for!”

 

As they walk into the yard, Clarisse pushes the son of Hephaestus into a big pile of junk for the comment, and the rest of the gang begin their search.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Two hours, one police car with three flat tires, two broken down motorcycles, and three instances of someone getting literally lost in the trash, they finally find their metaphorical golden chariot.

 

“She’s beautiful,” whispers Leo to the beaten, dusty, train wreck of a red pick-up truck. He feigns wiping a tear out of his eye and sniffs dramatically. “Got all four wheels and everything.”

 

Percy’s fine with it (and Rachel seems to be just glad that they can stop going through trash, so she doesn’t complain). Clarisse climbs in and starts the truck up, and the start’s a little bumpy, but she calls out that yeah, it turns on. Radio even works.

 

He turns to Nico, who isn’t even looking at the truck, he’s just looking at the ground. He looks exhausted and sort of like he’s had eighteen cups of coffee. Percy thinks about asking him what’s up, but Nico’s never been one to talk about his feelings, especially in public. He guesses it can wait for their car ride, since they’re gonna have lots of time to talk there.

 

But he walks on up to it, and slaps the bed of the truck, and turns to Nico and calls out, “You like it?” anyway. And Nico sort of jumps to attention, but he nods, and walks over to the opposite side.

 

“I mean,” he sighs, sounding sort of tired. “It’ll do, I guess. We can take sleeping bags.” He motions to the bed of the truck, “sleep in the… sleep there.”

 

“Well,” jumps Percy, itching to get things rolling all of a sudden. “Let’s see how she drives. Move it, Clarisse - my quest, my ride.”

 

“Oh, no,” laughs Clarisse, and she sounds sort of friendly when she climbs out from behind the wheel and holds her hands up in surrender. “Please don’t take this awful red truck away from me, Percy, haha!”

 

He rolls his eyes, and climbs in. Fixes all his mirrors, checks the AC (because _fuck_ is it hot in the junkyard in the middle of August), and then turns to look out the passenger window. There is Nico, looking over the truck and making faces at the chipped red paint.

 

“Hey,” he calls, reaching over and knocking on the window, which makes Nico jump up. “Are you coming, or what?”

 

Nico makes the mistake of rising to Percy’s challenge, climbing in, and that’s how the two of them drive into the middle of camp, winding out of the junkyard and into the clearing where the cabins are, Percy with a manic grin on his face and Nico clinging desperately to whatever he can get his hands on before he remembers what seatbelts are. Percy thinks, fondly, he will take Nico’s whiney, shrill screams of absolute terror to the grave, as they are music to his ears.

 

But camp isn’t so big that you can actually drive around a whole lot, so they get to the main bunch of cabins and have to stop there or they’ll plow right into the Hecate cabin. When Percy turns the car off and the dust clears, Nico shoots him this dirty look and hisses, “Did you not get enough attention as a kid? Is that why you have to make everything such a big to-do?”

 

But Percy just keeps smiling, and shrugs. He sees a girl clearing through the dust, followed by the unmistakable form of Chiron, and hops out of the truck.

 

Chiron regards him with a sort of exasperation, motioning his hands up to the truck like the words “Why? _Why_ , Percy?” are stuck in his throat. He finally gets around to looking at Percy, expecting an answer, but Percy just smiles at him, like _isn’t this great?_ So Chiron just sighs.

 

Annabeth finds her way to Nico’s side of the truck, collapsing onto the open window with a cough, and Nico sort of scoots away from her like he doesn’t wanna get infected. “What _is_ this?” she hacks out, swatting the dust away.

 

“Our ride!” Announces Percy, gesturing to it like he’s some sort of game show host and he’s been perfecting his _Johnny, tell ‘em what they’ve won_ face for a while. “All the chariots are taken so we went through Cabin IX’s scrap heap and actually found a truck!”

 

“That’s,” Chiron begins to say, slowly looking it over, obviously scared that it’ll fall apart at his feet. “…Very clever, Percy.”

 

Percy takes liberties with explaining what’s happened today, again, to Chiron, while Annabeth picks at the peeling paint and Nico pulls on his seatbelt like he’s scared the car will just start up and take him for another spin. Some campers start to pool around, listening to Percy’s tale or just going to Nico and asking for the abridged version, which he mumbles out the window quietly.

 

By the end of it all, Chiron has gone from shocked to sympathetic to eventually thoughtful. He nods his understanding and dismisses the other campers, calling things like, “shouldn’t you be training? Go and tidy up the archery fields – tend to the pegasi,” and so on.

 

“So,” says Percy, patting the truck’s hood like its some faithful pet. “We’ve got the ride! We just need to get our hands on some gas money, pack some food and whatnot, oh, and we’ll need sleeping bags! I guess we’ll… pick up baby stuff on the way there?”

 

“Percy,” interrupts Chiron, sounding a little worried. “Are you sure you’re up for this? We could give you a bigger team, give the child a seasoned protector, that’s what they’re for—“

 

Percy doesn’t even need words to cut his instructor off. He looks towards Clarisse, who’s’ siblings are coming out of the woodworks to see what the hubbub is about, and who she regards fondly with a too-hard slap on the back as she explains where she’s been these last few hours. “I’ve never had any siblings,” He says eventually, like it’s a secret he’s been keeping, as he watches the whole Ares family fall into place like pieces of a puzzle. “And I see the guys who do, and I just. I can’t just leave him out there if he needs me, Chiron. We’re all family here. And I want him to be a part of that as soon as he can because there’s no safer place. I don’t want him in foster care, I don’t want him under the protection of a smelly human that’ll keep monsters away from him.” He steadies himself, determination alight in his evergreen eyes and his gaze piercing. “I want him with family. And if I’m the only family willing to get him here – I have to go. Everyone here should understand that.”

 

He looks over, and there is Annabeth. Her wild curly hair is tied up in the back, some of it framing the side of her heart-shaped face. She looks pensive, worried, and he knows her well enough to hear the words, “ _Don’t get hurt, seaweed brain_ ,” even though she doesn’t say them.

 

Chiron’s horse legs stomp the ground steadily, a nervous habit for when he has a decision to make and needs to make it soon. Eventually, he sighs, and pats Percy’s shoulder, leading him away from the truck as he trots back to the big house. “Very well,” he says, after some thought. “We’ll gather bags for the two of you, pack whatever you need. You can leave in the morning. Just get that horrid thing somewhere no one has to look at it.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

The rest of the day passes ordinarily enough. The Aphrodite cabin all rush up to Percy and Nico at once and tell them all about how to take care of a baby, though eventually Piper finds them and shoos them off. She promises the two of them a list of what they may need before she directs her siblings back into her cabin for chore duty, just in time for the Apollo cabin to do the same thing until Will Solace finds them and grabs Percy’s hand, preaching some sonnet about brotherly love Apollo could teach him, if Percy wanted. The Apollions are shooed off, replaced by the Demeter Cabin, shooed off by Clarisse, who tries to give Percy some words of encouragement, but all that comes out is what sounds like a drawn-out threat, and then Percy and Nico resign to their fate and just stay in the dining hall, waiting for everyone at camp to get their speech in.

 

The whole of it all takes about an hour, and by the time the last group comes up, Nico has his head planted on the table beside Percy. He feels the presence of another individual and tenses, and when the words of wisdom don’t start flying quick enough, Nico evidently decides enough is enough and rears up, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Yes,” he hisses, voice full of ugly spite, “We will remember to talk to it; yes, we know babies can die from lack of affection; no, we won’t ignore it – now please don’t give me your phone number ‘in case anything goes wrong’ because—“

 

“Of course I’m giving you my phone number,” says Annabeth, a mischievous sort of smirk on her delicate face, and Nico shuts right up, his eyes snapping open. He tries to sputter an apology, starting and stopping at least three different sentences, before he puts his hands up in surrender and tries to get up.

 

Percy knocks their ankles together, his eyes guarded and relaxed on Nico, and tries to put on his best casual front. He steadies his shoulders and puts on what he decides is a pretty good poker face, but Nico just freezes – like Percy’s slapped his old, Italian grandmother. He looks for an answer in Percy’s eyes, but comes up short and looks down, almost as if he’d been scolded, slowly sinking back unto the bench with Percy.

 

“So,” chirps Annabeth, rolling right along like not a single awkward beat had passed. “I’ve got a lot of different stories from around here, but I thought the best way to go was to get it from the source. What’s this about Hades trying to kill your new baby brother for no reason?”

 

And Percy shrugs, like it’s no big deal at all. He takes the reigns of the conversation, letting Nico sit there with his eyes everywhere but on Annabeth, and tells her the short version of their tale. About the dead mother, about Nico helping him out, (about Nico being grounded, which gets a laugh from Annabeth and a kick to the shin from Nico), about Poseidon setting up a trail for them – the whole 9 yards. He tries to keep it clipped and short, but he ends up laughing with her and making _remember when_ and _like that one time_ jokes.

 

Except whenever he looks over at Nico, the kid’s giving him this look. Sort of like he’s unto Percy, sort of like he expects something. It unnerves Percy, kinda, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He tries to end his conversation with Annabeth, says they better go back, you know—and then before he knows it, Piper’s back, placing her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder and asking if she could help her with something.

 

Percy’s not sure if he looks relieved, but he feels relieved. Annabeth looks gung-ho and peppy, until she turns back to Percy, and her face falters for a little bit. She looks him up and down quick, glances over at Nico, sort of bites her lip. And then she whispers, “be safe,” like it’s just for Percy to hear.

 

He takes the words, tucks them deep into the corner of his heart – then slaps Nico on the back and says, “We better start packing, right?”

 

And this whole time Nico just looks at him. He can’t pick a feature on Percy’s face to stare at, so he just looks at all of it, his oil-slick eyes going everywhere and his thin, kinda chapped lips parted just a little. He’s on the hunt for something – looking for a clue or an answer, but eventually he purses his lips together and swallows, sighing through his nose just a little.

 

He goes, “Yeah,” and then he doesn’t say anything else, and Percy’s grateful.

 

They end up at the Hermes Cabin, since they can’t think of any other places for maps to be, and here’s the thing about the Hermes Cabin – well, two things: Connor and Travis.

 

Nearly everyone at camp has dealt with Connor and Travis, partly because they’re the resident trouble-makers and they never tire, never sleep, and partly because nearly everyone at some point has gotten thrust into their cabin, Hermes being the God of Travelers. Somehow, this means they have some sort of dirt on everyone, which is what makes them so invincible. If there were ever tyrants at camp, it would be the Stoll twins.

 

And so when Percy and Nico stroll up to the cabin and knock on the door, Connor and Travis seem to be poised at the ready, like they could smell them coming and laid out the red carpet. They answer the door with grins that are too wide and eyes that sparkle like thieves letting royalty stay the night. Then they usher the two of them inside, the other Hermes Kids clearing the room and finding other nooks and crannies to get into, like Connor and Travis had called dibs and told their siblings to scram beforehand.

 

“So,” says Percy, as Travis pulls out a chair and all but forces him to sit. He rubs the back of his neck as Connor pulls one up for Nico, and they all sit down at this big round table like its some business meeting. “Um, we were wondering if you guys could help us find something?”

 

“Hm,” hums Connor, voice dripping with sarcasm and dramatics. “Could we help you find something for a trip to go get a baby? No—No, I don’t think that’s our area of expertise, is it Travis?”

 

Travis is playing along with the rouse, stroking an invisible goatee as he looks up in deep thought, playing like he’s confused. “Not that I know of, Connor. I mean, we’re pretty good at lots of things – but I don’t know if childcare is in the job description.”

 

Percy hazards a look at Nico, who should be frothing at the mouth to get the show on the road, but who is instead glaring at the twins like he expects them to spring a trap. Then Percy remembers – all that time he and Bianca and Thalia had spent searching for Artemis and Annabeth, Nico had spent here. Here, with only his mythomagic cards and figures and the Hermes kids to teach him the ropes, and Percy’s heart swells. Because at least when he was in this cabin, he had Luke running the place, and he was only here for like, a day. He wants to reach across the table and take Nico’s hands and tell him he’s tough for making it all that time, but the Stoll Brothers keep talking.

 

“No,” finishes Connor, shaking his head slowly and deliberately. “It definitely isn’t. I wonder what ever you could need _us_ for—“

 

“Maps,” grits Nico through his clenched teeth. “We need maps because… we have to drive there. And we need to follow the rivers. We need maps.”

 

Maps is apparently the magic word, because Connor and Travis spring up like they’re spring-loaded, and for some reason, they have approximately too many maps. They don’t even have them in books – well, they have almanacs and stuff - but they have old as shit maps, mostly. Enchanted Maps, you know, to Ancient Greece, and maps of all the hidden passages to the Underworld, which Nico tries to steal, but you don’t steal from the Kings of Thieves.

 

They spend roughly an hour just looking over all the maps of the United States, and then finally they find what they’re looking for – a huge roll of paper with all the rivers in the country, and Percy points at it and goes, “That’s it!”

 

But they get it from Travis and Connor, and so of course it comes with a price. They corner Nico and they whisper in either one of his ears something about his dad being the god of death _and_ wealth, and Nico goes blood red before shoving the appropriate amount of drachmas in each of their wandering hands. And then they make Percy let him use Cabin III’s shower while he’s away. He shrugs and says OK, whatever, and Nico looks real bitter all the way back to the truck.

 

They stuff the maps they borrowed under the seat, along with their sleeping bags, Percy’s backpack (Nico says he doesn’t need one, so Percy doesn’t press), and roughly too much money – actual cash – Nico just pulls out of the Hades cabin and out of his pockets.

 

“Like they said,” he shrugs. “Death and wealth.” Then he goes, “I just keep running into the stuff,” like its some inconvenience.

 

Percy shoves at him, and at first Nico looks like he’s gonna draw his sword, and then you can see it dawn on him that, oh. Oh, yeah, friends do that.

 

He tells Percy to get some sleep, and then he’s just gone when Percy turns around. That’s when Percy realizes that disappearing out of thin air isn’t a shadow-travel thing, it’s just a Nico thing.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Nico sleeps from Camp to Albany, which isn’t a lot of time, but when he wakes up he screams.

 

“Nico,” Percy shrieks, trying to keep his eyes on the road but watching Nico struggle in his seatbelt. “You are _fine_! Do you—do you need me to pull over? Hey, hey—don’t open the door man, you’re OK!”

 

The kid looks like he has no idea where he is, like he’s been abducted. Percy can see him try to look at something as they drive by, but it’s like he can’t quite comprehend that they’re moving and so he gets confused when they speed by it. Eventually, he looks at Percy.

 

“…I’m OK,” he says, and it comes out laden with sleep and raspy. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing deep, and settling into the seat. “I-I’m sorry—how long was I asleep?”

 

Percy shakes his head, going back to the road. To be honest, he’s not sure Nico ever woke up. He looked really out of it when Percy had gotten him that morning ready to hit the road, he didn’t even give Percy a stupid look when he yelled, “Road trip!” as they left camp.

 

“Little over an hour,” Percy shrugs. “I figured you just hadn’t woken up yet and didn’t wanna talk. How’d you sleep last night?”

 

Nico gives this weird kinda whiney noise and rubs his eyes sleepily. The motion makes him look kiddish and young, but he still sounds as grumpy as ever when he goes, “I didn’t. Not till the sun rose, anyway. I kept on thinking my dad was gonna Iris me again. Guess I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Which reminds Percy – he wants to ask Nico about his dad grounding him (which was what he would always refer to this instance as, so long as they both shall live, and probably when they bump into each other in the Fields of Elysium or their next life,). What did Nico do that got him into so much trouble that his dad shut down his death-powers? Could godparents even do that? Could Poseidon strip away his breathing underwater thing, could Aphrodite turn off Piper’s charmspeak?

 

But when he looks back at Nico, he feels like they shouldn’t open up to that topic. They’ve got a lot of time, anyway. He figures he’ll start with something not quite so heavy.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!”

 

“Nn?”

 

“Let’s play one of those—one of those, you know, those word games?”

 

“You’re gonna have to elaborate.”

 

“Like—OK, one of them goes like this. I say a word, or a phrase, or something like that, and you just say whatever comes to mind, and we just bounce off each other like that.”

 

“…Why?”

 

“…What? Because, uh, that’s just how it—“

 

“No, I mean, why do you want to do that? Who does that?”

 

“I don’t know, man, kids? I’m bored and I’m gonna be driving for days and I don’t wanna fall asleep behind the wheel.”

 

“OK. Yeah… OK, whatever. You start.”

 

“Alright, neat! Uh… Um, water!”

 

“Styx.”

 

“Bones.”

 

“Decay.”

 

“Worms!”

 

“Maggots.”

 

“Ew. Gross.”

 

“Percy.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Horse.”

 

“Pfft. Black Jack.”

 

“Poker Face.”

 

“Lady Gaga!”

 

“What?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Wait—“

 

“Time!”

 

“Ugh. Uh, space.”

 

“Stars.”

 

“Earth.”

 

“Gaea.”

 

Silence.

 

“Let’s just. Listen to the radio.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

They get a hold of something that eventually will lead them to the James River and for a while they follow that. Nico whines, a lot, about how long it takes, and Percy reminds him that not everyone can just sulk off into the shadows and get places instantaneously whenever they want, which Nico makes a mean face at him for. Percy thinks about bringing up the grounded thing again, but then he hears Nico’s stomach growl over the static of the radio, and they look at each other, Percy with a very patient look and Nico like he’s been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

 

Percy laughs, “What?” at Nico’s near ashamed look and smiles at the road. “It’s been a while since breakfast, yeah? Why don’t we pull over and get some food?”

 

They’re about half-way through Pennsylvania, on the outskirts of Philadelphia, maybe, when Percy starts looking for a place to eat. Even though he’s been with Nico the whole time, he finds he’s excited to be around other people, even if he’s just buying a cheeseburger off them. Percy drives them through a gas station, fills the truck up, and then leaves her at the parking lot.

 

“What’re you doing,” Nico asks, looking from Percy, to the truck, to the convenience store. “We can eat here, can’t we?”

 

And yeah, they can, but Percy’s really itching to stretch his legs. And to be honest, it feels nice to be on a quest that isn’t all about time-limits, like, before the whatever-solstice, or in five days time. He’s confident his dad has this whole Hades thing on lockdown, and he doesn’t feel like he’s going on another epic adventure, he feels like he’s just picking up a package. He shrugs.

 

“I thought we could walk to a restaurant or something,” he shrugs, leaning against the back of the truck. “My legs are stiff as Styx, anyway. Let’s walk to an Applebee’s or something, it won’t take long.”

 

Nico fixes him with this look that’s sort of really funny, because his hair is all in his face, and he’s obviously mad, but his eyes are all half-lidded and his mouth is open like he’s trying to find something suitable to call Percy. But he rolls his eyes, which Percy kinda giggles at under his breath, and he goes, true to being almost-sixteen, “Whatever.”

 

So they walk around Philly, Nico with his hands stuffed in his pockets and Percy with a bounce in his step. Driving’s great and all, but Percy’s too ADHD to go on a road trip, his fingers are itching to be doing something, and he half wishes something exciting would happen, like a monster working at wherever they eat and trying to destroy them. Riptide is heavy in his pocket, and maybe having to kill something with that Stygian Iron would make Nico a little more energetic and fun to be around.

 

They don’t find an Applebee’s though. They settle for a diner instead, this little place cramped between a carwash and a Laundromat. There’s an old lady working the counter and she tries to welcome then, but then she gasps.

 

“My goodness,” she yells, with this sort of southern accent that doesn’t quite belong in Pennsylvania. She fixes Nico with her big brown eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Nico sort of falters, looking around the place like he’s trying to think of what he could’ve done wrong already.

 

“W-What?” he stammers, looking to Percy for help, who just shrugs and waltzes up to the counter without him.

 

“Thirty-three years I’ve been runnin’ this place,” Grandma says, shaking her head. “And I ain’t never seen a boy so little! Honey, what’s your mother feeding you?”

 

Nico’s eyebrows draw down, like he’s really thinking about the answer to that question. “Um, fruit, mostly. Or she tries to—“

 

Percy’s laughing before the old woman can counter, pulling up at the counter and shrugging his teal jacket off. He beckons for Nico to join him, who tiptoes forth like he might spring a booby trap, while the old woman starts fiddling with the coffee pot to the side. She puts some fresh water in it, and when she turns back around, she’s handing them their menus.

 

“Well, she should know a boy needs more than that! You’re just skin on bones! Here, now, don’t be shy, lemme know what you’d like and I’ll cook it up fresh – you need it.”

 

Nico stutters a, “um, uh, yes, ma’am,” as he straightens his posture and opens the menu delicately. He doesn’t say anything more.

 

And Percy chuckles, slapping his hand on Nico’s back and shaking him with the last of his laughter, and says, “Can we have some coffee, please?”

 

Grandma gives him this knowing look. “And what’re you, a baby yourself? Coffee’s for old men, honey. How ‘bout some Pepsi?”

 

“Haha, no, that’s actually—“ Percy smiles at the ground, giving the old lady his best _you can’t say no this_ face. “We’re gonna be on the road for a while longer, just passing through town. And I’d really like to stay awake.”

 

“Ohh,” she swoons, adjusting her cute little old lady glasses. She takes the pot of the machine and starts to pour Percy a cup. “Guess it can be for honest young men, too. Where you boys from, where’re you headed?”

 

“From Long Island,” answers Percy, sniffing the coffee. “Headed cross-country. Los Angeles, and then Hawaii.”

 

The old woman – Margaret, her name tag reads – puckers her tiny mouth into a sort of pout. “Just the two of you? That’s such a long trip, are you sure you’ll be OK?”

 

Percy’s about to give her his best Good Boy act, but then a large, cold hand is placed upon his shoulder, and a voice that rumbles deep like a rolling river purrs, “They’ll be fine. They’ll be with me.”

 

Nico moves fast, his hand reaching instinctively to his belt, but he grasps at air where his Stygian Iron sword should be (“No,” Percy had said. “No, please don’t take that big thing into town, I—I’ve got my own.”). Then he looks at Percy, who nods at him, grabbing into his pocket and showing off an uncapped Riptide.

 

“Your daddy sent me,” says the man, as he flicks his cowboy hat out of his eyes and smiles at Percy. “Couldn’t make it here himself, but did you boys get here fast.” He waves to Margaret, ushering Percy and Nico to a table in the corner and off the counter in the front. “Get us all an order a chocolate-chip pancakes, please—an’, do you got any blue food coloring?”

 

She does, somehow, and agrees to make Percy’s and the stranger’s, who introduces himself as James, pancakes with it, chuckling highly like it’s the sweetest thing she’s seen in years. Nico moves stiffly into the booth, pressed against the window and Percy, as James takes off his hat and sets it on the table. As he stretches his shoulders and arms, the boys before him share a look, and a quiet, telepathic conversation.

 

Nico flicks his gaze at the guy and his eyes sort of bug out a bit, which says, _who the hell is this guy_ , and, _can you kill him by yourself?_

 

Percy short of shrugs, looking off to the side as he takes a sip of his coffee, translating roughly to, _said he knew my dad_ , then, _he’s offering to buy me blue pancakes_ , and finally, _I say he’s fine_.

 

“Locals here call me James,” says the older man, running a hand through the sandy blond hair under his hat. “But a while ago, they called me Clyte. Spirit of the James River.” He motions to himself, as if his red plaid tucked into worn out Levi’s will explain better than his words can. “Had to move up a smaller stream to find you boys, but,” he waves a finger at Percy, “If we watery fellas can’t pick you like a needle outta a pile a hay. You shine near as bright as a blue light off the empire state.”

 

Percy forces a pained grin, like, _yeah, I remember that too, haha_. But Nico doesn’t seem keen on grinning. His arms are crossed over his chest and he regards James not like he doesn’t trust him, but more like he isn’t impressed.

 

“You know, I’ve met a lot of sprites and naiads that’ve moved with Olympus,” he says, crossing his legs under the table. “And they’ve never seemed too eager to go native. Too proud of their heritage. What’s your deal?”

 

“Shoot,” says James, smiling out the window. He’s an odd guy, for the incarnation of the James River, but somehow he fits the part, with his broad frame and his thick arms and his square jaw. He just doesn’t look like a water sprite. “Guess it just feels more like me. I like the youngin’s that swim around in me,” he shrugs, and with a harsh sniff says, “you get used to all the peein’ and whatnot.”

 

Percy makes a face at that, emptying his coffee cup. “So—my dad sent you? Does he need to tell us something? Is everything OK?”

 

“Sure, son,” James smiles, stretching back in the side of the booth he has all to himself. “Poseidon’s a strong fella. It’ll take more than a pile o’ bones to scare him off. Naw, I’m just here to tell you kids where to go. You gotta map?”

 

They don’t have a map, not on them, theirs is in the car, but James seems to have come prepared for that. He pulls one out from inside his coat and unrolls it, slaps it on the counter, and it’s this big, ancient thing that makes this shimmery sound, like coins through water. It looks like some priceless artifact that they can’t touch – then James pulls this big red marker outta his other pocket and uncaps it with his teeth.

 

He highlights the river they’re meant to follow, and writes their Greek Name next to their usual name – Ceto, Halimeda, Pelagia and Asterion all written in James’s fine, cursive print – and then he just tears into what they’re like over blue chocolate-chip pancakes. Talks about his little affair with Halimeda, and about how Asterion can be ‘real high n’ mighty,’ so they might want to bring an offering to him to get him to comply.

 

Percy likes James – he’s a funny, good-spirited guy, and he seemed to get a kick out of Percy’s liking his food blue. He explains his knowing about it as a “tale I heard from your daddy” with a wink, and something in Percy’s heart sort of swells. He’s heard enough people sneer and call him Poseidon’s Golden Boy, but some times he forgets the Sea God showing up on his birthday and tucking the sand dollar into his hand, telling him, “No, Percy. You are my favorite son.”

 

And Nico, well. He seems to not mind James too much. He’s not audibly complaining, and he seems to like the pancakes enough. But for the most part, he does what he’s best at and sinks into the corner while Percy and James laugh.

 

And it makes Percy think: he may not have siblings the way Nico or Piper or Will Solace has them, but he has family. He feels at home talking to James, and he’s got a real close relationship with his dad (he doesn’t know how many other campers have had their Godparent say outright, “You’re my favorite.”), and he’s got his whole deal with horses – plus, he can’t forget Tyson. Tyson’s probably the closest he’s got to a sibling, he thinks, but. Ah, he doesn’t know. It doesn’t feel like that. Tyson calls Poseidon daddy, which should make Percy’s brain fire off, ‘that means you’re my brother,’ but it doesn’t. Tyson’s close to him, important to him, and he loves Tyson, but…

 

He thinks of Nico pressing a quiet kiss to Hazel’s temple, and his heart squeezes.

 

“Well,” says James, wiping his mouth with his palm and backing away from his nearly clean and sort of blue-tinted plate. “I advise you boys hurry on up and get to the Ohio. Powerful body o’ water if anything goes wrong, Hali’ll keep you real safe. And uh,” He gets up, placing an unkempt pile of golden drachmas on the table and looking up, thinking, “Shoot, guess it’ll be the Missouri, after, won’t it. Ceto’ll take it from there.”

 

Percy nods, stacking his coffee cup on top of their empty plates and stealing another sip of the to-go dyed blue Pepsi Margaret had given him. Nico beholds the two of them like they’re from another planet all together and pockets the drachmas with a roll of his eyes. He replaces them with actual cash, nodding shyly at the old woman at the counter as they stroll out.

 

“Oh,” goes James, jumping to his toes and fishing around in his jacket. “I almost forgot—Asterion. He’s a big guy – minor River God, and not so good-natured as most of us. Orders or not, he may not take you ‘less you make it worth his while.”

 

He presses some cracked, flat thing into Percy’s hand, who only raises his eyebrows at James, his lips still locked around the straw of his drink.

 

“The others’ll give you the rest of the pieces,” explains James, tucking Percy’s fingers around the thing. “Think of it is payment for the big guy.”

 

Percy waits till he’s gotten the rest of his drink out the cup before he finally goes to thank the James River, but the naiad doesn’t wait for him. He punches Nico fondly on the shoulder and has the nerve to wink at him. His eyes flicker to Percy as he walks off, and he leaves them with the parting words of, “Now you boys be good to each other.”

 

A car whips by in front of James, and he is gone.

 

Percy and Nico stand in front of the diner for a while, Nico looking, as usual, at least sort of exhausted, and Percy shaking the ice in his cup to make sure he’s gotten all of it.

 

They listen to the hustle and bustle of barely-Philadelphia for a while, partly thinking of what to say each other, but mostly just trying to digest Margaret’s pancakes. Eventually, Nico kinda burps into his hand and says, “Gods, let’s just get out of here.”

 

And so they do.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

They’re in the lower part of Ohio when the sun starts to set. They’ve technically seen the river but Percy doesn’t feel any need to pull over. Nico had made a lot of noise like, “ _Well_ ,” as he motioned extravagantly at the river, and he’d shouted, “There it is!” and “What are we waiting for?”

 

And when Percy had shrugged and answered, “It just doesn’t feel like the right time,” he had groaned, a lot.

 

“This is _insane_ ,” Nico wails, hand clawing at the window like he is prisoner here, in this gods-awful, hideous mechanical beast. “How does it even take this long to get places? The United States _cannot_ be this big – what is _taking_ us so long – Percy, I’m losing my _mind_ —“

 

“You are,” Percy barks back, shaking his head like he cannot believe what he is hearing. “You are the one losing your mind, and I’m the one stuck behind people going 45 on the highway _for no good damn reason at all_ —Nico, I am not an angry guy but I—I’m about ready to just drive this thing off the bridge and put us both out of our misery because I cannot stay behind this wheel for another second without getting some sort of energy out and I don’t know if you noticed, but you aren’t the best company on road-trips—all you do is whine and complain about this taking too long, about the seatbelt itching—“

 

“It itches!” Nico interjects, self-righteously.

 

“About the radio fizzing out—“

 

“Well the radio sucks!”

 

“The _car_ sucks, man!” Percy stops then, hands gripping the wheel as he slowly comes back to himself. He glances at Nico, who is staring indignantly out the window and pointedly not looking at Percy, and he sighs, long and deep.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. “That was uncalled for. I just haven’t been on the road this long before and it just—it changes a man, you know?”

 

“No,” Nico quips back, grumpily. “No, why would I know? I’ve never driven a car.” 

 

For some reason, this shocks Percy. He double-takes back to Nico before finally putting his eyes back on the road and he chokes out, “Never? _Never_ -never?”

 

“There’s only one kind of never, Percy.”

 

“You’ve never—“ Percy is almost choked by the foreign monster that made him curse and yell, but he buries it back down. He has saved the world enough times to battle road rage, dammit. “…So I’m just gonna be driving the whole time. Because, if somebody was like, hey, it’s just you and me, let’s drive there, I think I’d have the decency to tell them, ahh, you know, here’s the thing – you’re gonna be doing all the driving, because I can’t drive.”

 

“I was stuck,” Nico barks back, punctuating his words, “in a casino where time doesn’t fucking move for 70 years – and then immediately after, I was a little busy with this whole being the son of death business. I’m sorry, but I was a little preoccupied.” He pauses, then adds on, quieter. “And the cars now are really different. I didn’t know where to start and—“

 

“Dude,” Percy cries, tipping his head back dramatically. “I—I’m sorry, I can’t drive nonstop to California. I’ll lose my mind, I’ll actually go crazy on you. And I can’t believe you never thought you might have to drive—“

 

“I don’t wanna talk about it, OK?” Nico makes a big deal of looking out the window, sulking like Percy’s threatened to turn the car around.

 

Percy goes, “What?” And almost chokes on a laugh. “Nico, you cannot shadow-travel away from all your problems. You can’t disappear in a dark corner whenever you don’t like what you’re facing or when you don’t want to—“

 

He stops, because Nico’s fumbling around in the glove compartment, his anger preventing him from opening it in a quiet, sane fashion. He nearly rips the space out of the vehicle and when he finally pushes it open, he’s holding these dusty old cassettes.

 

He rips the cassettes out of their cases, tossing them downward so they bounce around his feet as he shoves the tape into the radio and turns it on. He crosses his arms back over his chest tight and makes a big deal of thumping back against the seat, pout-scowling over the bridge as they drive by.

 

Percy lets him have his fit, and eventually the radio fuzzes to life.

 

A smooth, slow guitar plucks its way to the songs opening. It’s a lot quieter than what Nico was obviously hoping for – something to drown out Percy and shut him up – but Percy doesn’t press. He lets the quiet guitar fill the air before he realizes, hey.

 

“Hey, I know this song.”

 

Nico doesn’t say anything.

 

Percy smiles. “ _And it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth. The minor fall and the major lift, the baffled king composing hallelujah_ —don’t you know this song?”

 

_Hallelujah_ , the radio sings. _Hallelujah_. Nico seems to soften, glancing at the radio with a shrug. “No. I’m not really up to date with the hip tunes of the time.”

 

Percy really wants to tear into him and ask _why do you do that – why do you have to get so defensive,_ but he doesn’t. He let’s the man in the radio play his song, a sad tune Percy’s pretty sure everyone should know at least a couple lines from. “Well,” he goes, tapping out the slow beat with his fingers on the wheel. “Listen. You might like it.”

 

The song goes on forever. Percy knows most of the lines, whisper-sings them quietly under his breath, but a lot of it is just quiet background guitar. It soothes both of their anger, and he glances at the floor where Nico rests his feet as the song sings on. “Who is this?”

 

Nico reaches down, plucking up the cassettes he threw down. “Uh,” he goes, picking them up and dusting them off. “ _Grace_ by Jeff Buckley. And then we’ve got _John Denver and the Muppets, a Christmas Together_.”

 

“Who the hell is Jeff Buckley,” they muse in unison, and then they laugh, only a little awkward. 

 

“Can I ask you something?” Percy says, watching Nico open the cassette holders and pull out the paper inside them. Nico’s close to him, there’s only like, half a seat’s space between them (just room enough to put a baby if they really need to), but he presses himself against the door like he needs to be in the corner. His black jacket and black hair and black everything but his skin, dusty marble against the dirty red leather interior of the truck at once makes him stick out and almost shrinks him. Percy licks his lips, and hopes for the best.

 

Nico goes, “Yeah,” like he hadn’t thrown a temper tantrum a second ago, and Percy drudges on.

 

“Why are you grounded?”

 

“Would you _stop_ calling it that—”

 

“No, I mean it,” Percy presses, as the song changes to some other slow, bluesy kinda tune. Jeff Buckley, whoever he is, provides a nice, calming backdrop. “What did you do that was so bad your dad cut off your—your shadow-travelling, and your—“ He stops, waits a beat, and looks at Nico. “What did you do?”

 

Nico purses his lips together, looking up and ahead from under his eyelashes and not out the window for once. _Too young to go on_ , Jeff croons, _too old to just break free and run._ _Sometimes a man must wait to find he really has no one._ Nico glances out the window before he begins to speak quietly over the music.

 

“I,” he begins, and then stops, and then Percy can see him mentally urging himself to go on before he starts again. “I like to… to wander around the underworld sometimes. Like to go into the fields and talk to the dead when nothing’s going on, you know? And they’ll tell me about their kids or how they died or—whatever. So sometimes I just wander around, looking for something to get into, you know. And I was walking, and I saw my dad, and he was talking to The Fates.

 

“And they never talk to him. Like, they only talk to him when someone really important has died and they don’t know what to do with him – when they can’t decide where to put someone, and then they let him have final say. Well.” He scratches the back of his neck, like he’s getting shy or something, but Percy doesn’t move an inch.

 

After a few more seconds of song, Jeff really getting into it now, Nico goes on. “Well, I heard him talk about all the… about killing this new Poseidon Kid, you know. And he’s so—I mean he can be stubborn, but usually I can talk him out of things, because he just doesn’t—he’s just been dealt the short end of the stick so much it mucks up his vision, so you hafta,” he makes a vague hand motion out the window, getting caught up with the story. “You hafta talk to him. Kinda placate him, sometimes. So I went up to him and I talked. And I said, dad, you can’t just kill someone because you’re scared they might one day be an inconvenience.

 

“And of course, he waves me away, he goes—“ Nico theatrically lowers his voice, puffing up his chest and talking wildly with his hands now. “Oh, you don’t know what’s good for us! And I’m like, us? Us, are you confusing that with you? Doesn’t concern me at all. And he tells me some shit about Hazel and I getting… getting the short end of the stick to you and Jason, and I tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, which he doesn’t, but he just goes on.

 

“He just goes on and on and on about how he wants to protect us and our ‘ _family_ ’ and how…” Nico stops, shaking his head at the road like he’s reliving the conversation and starting to get mad all over again. “Anyway,” he sighs, slumping back into his seat slowly. “I basically stuck my neck out for you and went, uh, well, you know I’m gonna tell Percy right? And my dad has a conniption and starts to yell at me but it’s—I mean it’s dark everywhere down there. So I just slipped into a shadow and…” he stops, regarding their encounter that night in the storm. “Got my head mashed in.”

 

The song changes again and Percy’s mouth goes dry.

 

Nico doesn’t say anything more, like he’s reached his word quota for the day and will only start dishing out quick remarks after midnight, so it’s just Jeff for a while, singing a line that goes _you’ve made a killer of your only son_ , which is just, like. Like, that goes beyond irony.

 

It serves as nice background music while Percy has an extensive flashback to a twelve year old Nico, practically swimming in that bomber jacket as he tells Percy, “The ghost told me you were in trouble, so I came looking for you.”

 

He tries to remember all the times Nico has jumped in front of the crossfire for Percy, has stumbled his way through praise for Percy, when he was missing and he went looking for Percy, when he saved him from rotting in Hades’s prison cell and saved the world by making him bathe in the Styx.

 

Nico di Angelo should be his best friend. He looks over, meeting Nico’s eyes; Nico, who looks patient and a little embarrassed for some reason, and he thinks, _why isn’t he_? Would he do the same for the son of Hades? Would he double-cross Poseidon, threaten his own father for Nico’s sake?

 

Is Nico thinking the same thing right now?

 

“Thank you,” tumbles out of Percy’s mouth before he can stop it. He tries to take a page out of Nico’s book, where you just say whatever comes to mind and take blunt to a whole new level.

 

Scoffing, Nico turns away like the moment never happened, and leans back unto the door again. They go past three different songs before Nico goes, out of no where, “What’s with you and Annabeth?”

 

Percy nearly slams on the breaks, like skidding off the road will put the breaks on this conversation. He starts shaking his head, and turns up the music. “No,” he shouts, before he lets Jeff take it away.

 

“Hey, hey!” Nico jumps to attention, turning the volume down and sitting up straight in his seat to glare at Percy. “That’s not—that’s— _You can’t just shadow-travel away from your problems, Percy_.”

 

Percy groans, long and whiney. He makes a sad face at the road, trying his best to convey just how much he doesn’t want to talk about this without looking at Nico. “Look, I know what I said, but this—“

 

“I have never,” Nico interrupts, placing his feet on the dashboard in front of him and leaning back. “In all the years that I have known you, seen you like that. You’ve always rushed up to your problems and shouted your feelings off a mountain for all the gods to hear—“

 

“Nico, that’s not what I—“

 

“For real!” Nico goes, hitting Percy lightly with the back of his hand, and Percy loosens up a little, because at least Nico’s comfortable enough to smack him. “I’ve never seen you do that. I’ve never seen you hide away from something, never seen you _act_ like that. What happened? Did you guys…?”

 

The question hangs in the air, as Jeff Buckley tells them, _I remember the smell of the fabric of your simple city dress_.

 

Percy sighs, forcing any bad vibe or feeling out with the breath, and then perks to attention like a sigh is seven cups of coffee. “Yes,” he says, in a weird, cheery way. “Yes, we broke up. Yep.”

 

And he feels like an asshole for saying it like that, because what can Nico reply to that with? He just sits there, fiddling with the holes in his pants quietly. Eventually he goes, “Oh.” And Percy gets the feeling they _both_ feel like assholes. He worries his lower lip, and finally, after a while, takes a quick glance at Nico, who had been watching him, and who looks back out the window quick as lightning.

 

“Look, man,” says Percy, not wanting to open this can of worms in a car with Nico di Angelo, in southern Ohio, on a quest to save his kid brother. “I appreciate your concern but, I haven’t really talked about it yet – not since it happened, and. And you just don’t wanna get into this with me, I promise.”

 

Nico nods, like he understands completely, and is quiet for a while before he whispers, “I’ve been told I’m a… _killer listener_.”

 

Percy laughs at that, more at the fact that Nico’s trying than that Nico’s funny, and his chuckles lighten up the air a little as he runs his hand over the wheel. It’s dark. It’s just them on the road now, just their headlights cutting into the darkness in front of them. Next city’s a good 250 miles away and Percy’s looking forward to complaining about it the whole ride there.

 

“Really,” Nico continues, and then, more seriously, “but, _really_. You don’t wanna let feelings like that boil up. And I know it’s nothing life-altering, like, she’s not _dead_ or anything. But.”

 

He looks at Percy, who remembers, again, a young Nico looking at him through the wisps of Bianca’s spirit, as he watched the hate just drain out of those eyes, replaced instead with confusion and sadness Percy was too scared to try and tame.

 

Percy looks back. He gulps, eyes flickering between Nico and his messy hair and his sharp as Styx cheekbones and his dark, deep eyes. Eventually, he sighs, which is answer enough, and Nico gives him a minute to collect his bearings for his tries to get the ball rolling.

 

“Last month,” he begins, and Nico winces audibly and Percy goes, “I know, I know,” like he’s sorry, before trying again, “last month, we… Gods. We were—use your imagination, I’m nearly eighteen and have a girlfriend—“

 

“Yeesh,” Nico yelps, crossing his legs on the dashboard and getting comfy for story time. “I get the picture, OK, go on.”

 

“OK. Thank you. We’re...” Percy makes this quick, circular motion with his hand, lips pressed tight as he glances at Nico to make sure he understands. “We’re kissing. And it’s great, and it’s fine, and she just—she holds her hand up, she goes, wait, you know, like, hold on a second. And I’m like, is something wrong, are you OK, do you need me to do x, y, or z, that sorta stuff and she…” He gives Nico a long, hard look. “She _looks_ at me.”

 

Percy is quiet. Eventually, Nico gathers that he is supposed to say something to that and so he shoots his eyebrows up and parrots back, “ _Looks_ at you.”

 

“Yeah,” Percy goes, nodding gravely. “Like I’ve… Not like how you look at someone when you’re making out with them. She looks like she’s been invited to a funeral.”

 

“Ohh.”

 

“Yeah! And I get worried, like, she looks like she’s… like she’s gonna cry! I go, Annabeth—Annabeth, what’s wrong? Is everything OK? I start wracking my mind – is her Dad OK, is school OK, did she not get into that place she wanted to, is she sick, what’s up? And she… she says… She shakes her head, she goes, I need to talk to you.”

 

Nico nods seriously. He’s trying his best to look like he’s used to people talking about their break-ups with him, trying his best to seem professional. It’s sorta cute, actually, and Percy would laugh at it but the floodgates are open, and he only hopes that Nico can withstand the waters when they try and take him under.

 

Because here’s the thing: Nico’s right – Percy doesn’t like keeping his feelings inside. He usually finds someone to talk to all his problems about, because, as spoiled as it makes him sound, there’s always been someone to listen. There was always Annabeth, or Grover, or even Chiron or his dad sometimes. Someone was always there to look at him and go, _you need to talk about this_. And he knows he needs to talk about this, but it. It’s like it. It kinda.

 

It embarrasses him. He’s been through so much: buried friends, nearly died himself a few times, battled monsters – he’s done all this crazy, life-threatening shit, and he’s upset a girl broke up with him.

 

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to get lost in Jeff Buckley’s music, but he doesn’t wanna turn it off. All that silence with just Percy and Nico would be too much – Jeff’s helpin’ to keep it not too heavy.

 

“And so she starts talking about all the cool stuff we’ve done together. She’s like, ‘remember when you got to camp the first day, and I was all prissy because I wanted you to be the prophecy’s hero and I wanted to jump on that quest so bad I got angry you weren’t going fast enough?’ And she get’s—happy! So I nod, I smile, I’m like, yeah! ‘Remember how happy I was when I finally found you again after almost half a year?’ And I go, yeah, yeah. And I think, where’s she going with this? But I don’t ask. Cuz it’s just Annabeth. She’s like… My best friend. Knows me better than anybody.

 

“She stalls a little, but, after a while it’s like. She just gives up. Which is so unlike her, not the giving up part— _well_ —but the, the part where she just stops trying to find the right words. So I know something’s wrong, because—Annabeth doesn’t just do that, she’s very particular about what she says and how she says it. And she looks sad again! And so again, I’m like, Annabeth, _what’s wrong_?”

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been talking, but the cassette has turned over and begins to play from the top. Nico’s looking at him kind of funny, like he’s interested in what Percy’s saying, but like he’s half scared Percy will explode somewhere down the line. And Percy stops, and thinks, _do I sound like I’m about to blow up_? So he makes sure he’s got a good handle on himself before he goes on.

 

Except, once he starts talking about it again, he gets upset again, and he just goes, fuck it, and let’s his emotions run their course. He waves his hand in the air, like, what’s the use, and he says, “Man, what have I—What am I talking about all this—Look, long story short, we were making out and she said she didn’t love me anymore.”

 

There, gods almighty—there. It’s finally out there. It’s out there, and it’s finally off his shoulders. Annabeth doesn’t love him anymore. She doesn’t love him anymore and—and Percy will be _damned_ if he is going to cry in a car with Nico di Angelo, in southern Ohio, on a quest to save his kid brother, because he was talking about his ex-girlfriend and how she doesn’t love him anymore.

 

He doesn’t want to think about what he looks like. He’s taking these short, quick, but deep breaths to make sure he doesn’t get too upset. He looks around, and realizes he isn’t driving anymore, and he looks out the window, where everything is still and dark and quiet and he goes, “When did I pull over,” all miserable and _stupid_.

 

And Nico, gosh. Poor Nico looks like he would rather be anywhere but in this car with Percy (Percy warned him! You don’t wanna do this with me, his exact words! But he guesses there’s _another_ person who doesn’t listen to him). He looks like he has a deep-rooted, crazed phobia of tears, and Percy can see it in his eyes when he looks back at him. One eye says, _Hey, it’ll be OK_ , but the other one says, _So help me, Percy Jackson, if you cry, I’m out. I don’t need to shadow-travel, I will start walking in any direction to get away from you if you cry_.

 

Eventually, he coughs a little awkwardly and shrugs, and goes, “Around the time Annabeth _looked_ at you.”

 

Percy sighs dejectedly. He turns the car off and slumps into the seat – and it’s different when Nico slumps into the seat, because Nico, despite gaining a bit of height after the war on Gaea, is a small, slender guy and he just folds up like a lawn chair, like he knows exactly how to shrink three sizes smaller, but with Percy it’s just awkward because he’s nearly six feet and about eighty percent of him is limbs and elbows and bone and string.

 

He doesn’t know what to say after that. Does he just start talking about what he’s thinking, is that how this goes? Does he just tell all of it to Nico? Does Nico care that much?

 

He thinks of the way Nico looked at him when they met at Camp Jupiter, that flicker of shock, but more than anything, of hope, and how he turned into a completely different person for a second, some color finally blossoming on his face like he wasn’t completely dead, and Percy bursts into tears.

 

It’s kinda clipped, and he kinda coughs the sobs out like there’s too many of them stuck in his windpipe and they’re all trying to get to the front of the line and out of his mouth at the same time, and Nico cries, “Oh,” and then, “Oh, gods, Percy,” as he reaches over and pats Percy’s shoulder like he’s scared he’ll get bitten.

 

And then it’s almost like Nico is trying to recount every movie Percy ever showed him, every instance of anyone he’s ever heard comforting someone, and tries to call on the powers of the motion. He goes, “Hey,” about five different times before it finally sounds like he’s trying to comfort anybody. “Hey, it’s OK. D-Don’t cry. Want me to turn the radio back on?”

 

Percy nods, his forehead resting on the steering wheel, and Nico fumbles with the radio before he finds a station that works, and the song that’s playing croons out, _but you didn’t have to cut me off, make out like it never happened and that we were nothing_ , and Percy cries even harder, so Nico jumps and turns it off and goes, “OK, OK, it’s OK.”

 

It starts raining, obviously. Just a light drizzle, just loud enough to set the mood and make Percy feel like his life really is a movie. It’s just him, the sound of rain pelting against the beaten up old truck, and Nico di Angelo, unsure of where to put his hands, or if he’s allowed to touch Percy at all. Percy sniffs his crying to a halt and looks up at Nico, his temple still plastered to the wheel, and they look at each other.

 

It’s very anti-climactic, really. If ever he was going to cry with Nico, he figured it wouldn’t be in a situation like this. Because Nico is an incurably sad individual, not sad in the way that he’s depressed, but sad in the way that he makes other people want to call their parents, just to tell them they love them. He figured eventually, he and Nico could cry about Bianca, or their friends that died in the Second Titan War, or—or something that actually matters, but not this, and not here, and not in the manner that they are doing it. And Percy’s sorry, he’s so sorry, he doesn’t know why he has to make everything a big to-do, maybe he really didn’t get enough attention as a kid and now the fame’s just gone to his head and he doesn’t know how to not make every situation and instance about him. He’s sorry.

 

“Percy,” Nico goes, sounding pained and hardened, and Percy realizes he’s been talking out loud this whole time. “Gods, you’re—you don’t have to be sorry. Jesus, do you ever stop to think that maybe you’re a real person?”

 

Percy blinks, because he doesn’t follow. He chokes out that much to Nico, sounding like a child who’d lost their favorite toy.

 

“I mean…” Nico starts, then stops, licking his lips and settling next to Percy, one arm sort of huddled around his shoulders, patting him every now and again. “Yeah, you’re the son of Poseidon. Yeah, you’ve saved the world and are sort of… famous. But you’re also just a guy, you know. You can be upset about whatever. You can be upset about a movie, or a girl, or, or for no reason at all. You don’t have to explain your feelings and chart them out before you let yourself feel them.”

 

Someone, Percy thinks, somewhere, is getting a kick out of the fact that it’s Nico saying these things.

 

“So don’t…” Nico tries to trudge on, looking awkward and sort of scared, and Percy wants to lean into his touch just to let him know he’s doing a great job. “Don’t get all caught up trying to be the hero. Just… just be a guy who’s sad. Don’t even tell me why you’re sad. Just be sad. Talk about it, talk about how sad you are but don’t—“

 

“It just doesn’t make any _sense_ ,” Percy wails, his head unsticking from the wheel to plow into Nico’s bony shoulder. “Like, why all of a sudden? What did I do? I just wanna get a straight answer out of her, you know? I just want her to explain. But she wouldn’t, she won’t, and it… it…”

 

Nico is as still as the grave, surprisingly warm in the misty, cold night, but every once in a while, Percy is sure he feels the tremor of a shiver. He wants to pull back and zip his too-big bomber jacket up for him – so he pauses in his story and does. It makes Nico sort of gasp, and he goes so stiff that Percy wonders if this is what cuddling with the old, decrepit mummy of the oracle might’ve felt like. He shrugs the thought off, putting his head back on the knife-point of Nico’s shoulder and sighing before going on.

 

“It makes me so mad,” he says, and the tears are gone. Their wake is still there, in sticky tracks on his face, but their numbers have diminished and their march is done. They have all fallen onto the steering wheel and across the knees of Nico’s pants. “Because, like—you don’t just get to call it quits and not say another word, that’s so selfish. I’m not saying she didn’t have a right to break it off, but she could have at least explained why. And whenever I’d try to talk about it, she’d disappear, and when we did talk, she’d be all casual until I brought it up, then it’d be like, oh, gee, look at the time! I was in that relationship, too, Annabeth. It wasn’t just you.”

 

Nico let’s himself be used as a makeshift pillow for a while, one arm awkwardly placed around Percy’s shoulders. He clears his throat quietly, like it’s a small hiccup if anything, then he just jumps right into the metaphorical deep end and hazards, “What a bitch.”

 

“Right?” Percy flies away from Nico, who jumps back at the loss of contact, but then goes still as he just stares into Percy’s eyes. They are alight with the look of a man who has had too much sugar that day and Nico buckles himself down for the next part of this emotional roller coaster. “I mean, I’m sorry! I love Annabeth, as a friend and—and whatever, whatever—but, _man_! Who does that?” He shakes his head, in the way he does when he’s mad and he can’t talk about it, and looks out the window closest to him, putting his hands on the steering wheel like its some stress relief toy.

 

“And you know it’s so weird but it’s like, now that we aren’t dating, I can see all these things about her that drive me _crazy_. Like whenever she mentions her phone to someone going on a quest I’m like, Jesus, Annabeth, we get it – you have a phone and we don’t. Shut up! And how she’s always talking about her hair.” He mimes curling a lock of hair around his finger and says in a theatrical feminine voice, “ _Gosh, it’s just so_ there! No like, she actually said that out loud to real people – and they listened, they ate it up, they were like, ooh, tell me, tell me how _there_ it is. _Do I cut it or not, gosh, I just don’t know_! Makes me wanna pull my _own_ hair outta my head and scream _no body cares_! You are the only one who cares about that mess, don’t you—don’t you drag everyone else into it so they have to pretend to care!

 

“And ohhh, gods,” he groans, thumping his head back against the seat. “The way she eats, like she’s too fucking good to actually taste the food, it’s like—shut up, stop trying to make a photo shoot out of it and the eat the damn pork chops, you pretentious, haughty—“

 

This goes on for what Nico can only hazard is years. The storm rages with Percy, like it’s literally feeding off his anger, and Nico just has to ride it out. He can’t quite pick which storm is better to endure, the emotional one Percy is letting loose on this poor, old truck, or the physical one beating down against the road and the lone tree next to it. Nico nods when Percy glances at him or asks for affirmation, and every time Nico looks back like, _yeah, pft, you don’t have to tell me_ , and says things like, “that’s so fucking like her.”

 

“And would you stop fucking calling me seaweed brain,” Percy yells out, striking his palm against the wheel like it’s his new punching bag. “I’m not twelve anymore—and you know what, screw Past Me for ever uttering the words wise girl! It’s like—what? Is that supposed to be an insult or a pet name or, what? It’s not fair because she’s been this big epicenter of my whole demigod _life_ and I was such an idiot because I figured she would be some constant that would always fix things and she let me think that, and when she tried to teach it to me by breaking up with me it was cold and distant and it just—wasn’t---fair!”

 

He accentuates each syllable with a strike to the horn, and on the third and final blow of it, the winds of the storm knocks a branch off the tree and Percy flies out of his rage to scream like young children with Nico, jumping in their seat. They stare at the branch, at the tree, at the sky, and then at each other.

 

Nico looks like he hasn’t slept in days and his hair sort of needs to be washed. The bags under his eyes are purple and screaming at Percy, and he looks - he just looks pitiful. Percy cannot believe he unleashed his anger unto this poor, scared little boy. Or he tries to think that, but Nico beats him to the punch and says, “I think the universe is as done with your bitching almost as much as I am,” very quietly, like the tree outside can’t know he said it.

 

A wide, blinding grin spreads its way across Percy’s face. His laughter starts slow, and then grows in volume as the storm dies down. Nico’s hushed chuckles provide the perfect backdrop as Percy puts his palm to his forehead and throws his head back. He thinks, one more time, Nico should be his best friend.

 

When the storm finally passes, Nico and Percy say, collectively, fuck it, let’s just sleep here. They roll out their sleeping bags in the bed of the truck pretty quietly (both of them having said enough for the day), humming Jeff Buckley every once and a while and giggling about that. They take out James’s map, looking over things sleepily before Nico goes, “I have had it with this day, let’s just go to sleep.”

 

It’s nearly completely dark when Nico finally slips into the sleeping bag, and Percy’s just shut his eyes when he hears him say, “oh, wait,” quiet as a mouse. He opens his eyes and watches Nico rummage in the pocket of his bomber jacket, and he has to squint to make out just what it is in the darkness, but when he finally catches sight of it, it’s worth it.

 

Nico, in a death head t-shirt just a little too big for him, takes into his long, nimble fingers a scrunchy, and ties his hair up into a bun before laying back down. It is quiet for what feels like forever, before Percy cracks up all over again and Nico screams unto the highway, “Shut _up_ , Jackson, it gets in the way when I sleep!”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Percy dreams he is at some concert and has lost his adorable baby brother in the crowd when he wakes up to the smell of fast food. He lies in his sleeping bag for a while, piecing together where he is and what to do if someone was actually out there, then quietly checks for Nico, whose cheek is pressed into his arm and who is drooling slightly. Percy chuckles a little at that, and then hears more rustling from outside the truck. He sort of climbs over Nico, his stomach not too far away from the other boy’s face, and peaks over the edge of the truck’s bed to see that there, beside the tree with the missing branch, is a woman with a McDonalds bag.

 

“Lookie you,” she goes, happy as can be in this early hour of the morning. “Sleepin’ beauty finally up and at ‘em. Good morning!”

 

Nico, graceful as a swan, wakes up at this and attempts to spring up, except his head connects with Percy’s belly-button and they both pull back, groaning. The woman laughs and laughs, coming up to see them, and puts her arms on the edge of the bed before regarding them with a warm smile. They do not return the sentiment at the moment.

 

“Got you boys breakfast,” she says, setting her chin on her arms. “You hungry?”

 

Percy and Nico observe her with more friendliness after that, and once Nico rubs the sleep out of his eyes, he takes one look at the McDonalds bag and goes, “Hell yeah,” like he has never been invested in something like he is in the spirit of sausage biscuits and hash browns. Percy climbs out a bit slower than he does, since he apparently isn’t as Pro-McD’s as Nico, and as they stumble out of the car and retrieve their breakfast, the woman laughs warmly to herself.

 

She’s pretty tall, comes up eye-level on Percy, and she’s got creamy, dark skin and legs for days. She wears a bandana on top of her high bun and ripped, thin flannel over a white tank top. It doesn’t take Percy too long to figure out who she reminds him of.

 

“You’re… the Ohio River, right? Halle—Holly—“

 

“Halimeda,” she says winking. “Was gonna wait for you boys at the end of my route but I can see you two needed your beauty sleep.”

 

Nico shrugs, shameless like, _yeah, I wanted to sleep, so I did_. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says, chewing through the hash brown and scratching the back of his head. “Are the other river’s gonna feed us too, or?”

 

Halimeda smiles, patting him on the back as she strolls around the space leisurely. “Depends on how good you are! Next naiad you run into, though, that’ll be…” She looks up, worrying her lip for a minute, before snapping her fingers cheerily. “Ceto! Ah, the good ol’ Missouri. She’ll lead you all the way towards the Colorado, that’s Pelagia, and from there – Asterion.”

 

The boys nod while they chew, like they haven’t quite woken up yet, and Percy imagines the map James gave them. They’ve got three more naiads to meet through the whole of their quest, and the United States isn’t all that small. He wonders how long he’ll go without seeing one, and how long this road trip will last.

 

“And, uh,” Percy waves his hand around like it’ll help him get the words out after he swallows his biscuit. “Just what’re—could you explain to us why my dad sent us on your trail, maybe? Like, aside from pieces of the whatever-it-is James gave me, what’s the deal?”

 

Halimeda smiles, one silent chuckle raising her shoulders for a second. “What do you think the deal is? Think we’re just here trying to make memories and scrapbook? Honey, we’re about as mortal as the gods themselves, and right after being a body of water, I am a warrior.” She looks him over, like she’s assessing Percy for the task ahead. “We’re here for protection. Hades has sent his soldiers through the waters to find Poseidon’s child, and if you’re going to reach the child before they do, you’ll need to be well-rested, well-fed, and well-equipped.”

 

There’s some sort of pendent around the naiad’s neck, and on her last word, she takes it off and tosses it to Percy. It’s reminiscent of one of those portable incense holders, because the jewel-like thing confined between the pieces of gold looks like empty glass, like something goes inside it. Percy holds it up to the sun to inspect it, then makes like he’s going to open it before Halimeda snatches it back.

 

“Godchildren,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes. “This is your equipment, sea boy. It’s a cage – and you will find the prisoner fit for it in the desert. Until then, keep it with you, and do. Not. Lose it.”

 

Halimeda takes her eyes off Percy and goes instead to Nico, who looks at least a little less sleep-deprived but who has crumbs from his biscuit all around his thin-lipped mouth. “As for you,” the naiad whispers, undoing the boy’s hair and running her hands through it. “Consider this a gift.”

 

When she draws her hand away, Nico’s hair looks kind of laughably good, like he’s come out of a salon or something, and his face looks so refreshed and he just looks kick-ass. Percy doesn’t have time to be jealous though, because he’s too busy taking in the way Nico shrinks away when Halimeda puts each hand on his shoulder and leans in, her voice low and grave.

 

“Poseidon acknowledges your part on this quest,” she says, and Nico looks like he wants to melt into a puddle and seep into the earth and have her be anywhere but there in his face. “He has stolen some of Hades’s power for you, but you must use it wisely. The lord of the dead could very well release his bonds on you tonight and you could be at full-power, but right now, you are still tied down. Consider this temporary restore of your abilities a gift from the waters that be.”

 

Nico chokes out, “Right,” as he looks away from her, and Halimeda pats his shoulder once more before turning to Percy again. “After the sun sets tonight, you have two days to make it Asterion. Give him the beast you imprison in the charm, and the rest of the pieces of this.”

 

From her pocket she pulls out another cracked piece of sandy something and presses it gently into the palm of Percy’s hand. This time, he just has to look at it for a minute before looking up and exclaiming, “Hey, I know what this is! Its pieces of a sand dollar! I pay with the sand—“

 

He looks up, ready to thank her, but Halimeda has disappeared in much the same way James had. Percy and Nico look around for a second, and then at each other, and then Nico sort of rolls his eyes and goes, “I think the flare for dramatics runs in the water family,” as he climbs into the bed of the truck to get his jacket. “Couldn’t make an entrance, so the exit will do. You coming?”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Here is a list of songs Percy knows every single word to and sings with the windows down as they cross Illinois into Missouri:

 

  1. We Are Never Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift (which he needed, he’ll admit)
  2. Don’t Come Around Here No More by Tom Petty
  3. Poker Face by Lady Gaga (“This!” Percy had wailed, turning the volume up. “This is Lady Gaga!”)
  4. Wanna Be Starting Something by Michael Jackson
  5. Sweater Weather by the Neighborhood



 

Percy doesn’t claim to be a good singer, but he knows he’s not awful, so he guesses that Nico only looks sour and stupid because he doesn’t know these songs and can’t sing along.

 

His suspicions are confirmed when they change it to some oldies station and Nico freaks out, looking actually happy and going, “I know this song!”

 

He sings for two towns’ straight, only stopping when the channel fizzes out as they change into open fields again, and as he slumps into the seat, Percy thinks he’s never seen him more disappointed. Eventually, he takes pity on Nico and pops Jeff Buckley’s cassette back into the player.

 

They harmonize so well on Hallelujah and Dream Brother it’s _insane_.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

It’s maybe two p.m. when they roll from the top of Missouri into Iowa, and Percy and Nico have had, well, a great time.

 

It feels so strange to say that because Nico is such a miserable guy, in the way that he makes you wanna really count your blessings, and because Percy has never seen him smile so much. But he just doesn’t stop – it’s so different from yesterday when most of the day he pouted out the window and wouldn’t acknowledge Percy. Today he scream-sings really loud with Percy and laughs until he can’t breathe. They play that word game again, and this time it goes about eighteen times better (“Britney Spears!” “Leo!” “What, why?” “I don’t know, haha! Go, go, it’s your turn, move it!” “Uhh, uh, monkeys!”), and they gossip about Annabeth and Clarisse and Jason and all their friends, and when Percy pulls over and runs them through a Starbucks window, Nico tells him that he can tell himself whatever he wants to sleep at night, but that’s not coffee, that’s a milkshake, and Percy shoots whipped cream out of his nose.

 

And it just doesn’t stop. They just keep enjoying themselves. And it’s not strange because it’s Nico, or because he’s having a good time with Nico, but because he hasn’t had this good of time in he can’t even remember when, and that Nico is taking the Best Time Had With A Person award.

 

Plus, Nico’s smile sort of makes you wanna give him a noogie, but his hair looks so good you can’t. Which is OK, but sort of strange, and kind of irritating if he’s being honest. He bets Nico’s never even had a noogie before, and he promises the universe that he is gonna be the guy that takes Nico’s noogie virginity. Then he thinks, OK, if there’s a line, that’s it, and he makes himself focus on the radio and not Nico for a while.

 

“Why did we have to drive,” Nico moans after maybe half an hour of silence, moping out the window but looking ten times more relaxed than yesterday. “I mean, wasn’t there any other way we could do this? Couldn’t we had waited two seconds for a chariot to come in? This just takes so long, and it’s gonna be such a pain in the ass to be in here with you and a baby when he comes back.”

 

“No kidding,” Percy mumbles, speeding a good 80 miles per hour on a highway all by himself. He hasn’t seen another car in a while – not since they really got off the coast. He realizes it’s because he is entering the part of the country no one truly wants to be in. “But hey – if we hadn’t taken this piece of shit, we wouldn’t have met Jeff, and we wouldn’t be like, best friends.”

 

It tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop it, and Percy manages to panic very quietly while not moving an inch and looking at the road like nothing happened. He waits for Nico to say something, anything, even something insulting, but the quiet lingers on.

 

Eventually, he sneaks a look at Nico’s face. He’s looking out the window again, but there is a brand new sort of smile on his face. It’s small and warm and makes Percy forget he’s driving for a second.

 

Percy takes the picture of Nico’s thin lips curved into that gentle grin as his magic-pretty hair coils against his cheekbones and his eyes go half lidded in a way that’s only a little tired as he stares out the window at the trees whipping by, and tucks it someplace inside himself no one will ever find it. The look is answer enough to ease the rattling, anxious feeling in the pit of his belly, and they drive on, humming the lyrics to Dream Brother when the cassette loops back around.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Just a ways after they hit Lincoln, Nebraska they find their next naiad.

 

Nico has fallen asleep, his head resting against the leather interior of the truck, and the _Grace_ Cassette is very low and quiet, a lullaby that will play till he wakes. But Percy isn’t trying to wake him now, so he rolls to a stop very gently when he sees the woman on the side of the road hold up the next piece of the sand dollar to motion him over.

 

“Ceto, I take it,” he whispers, grinning at her familiarly, and she immediately peeks behind him to Nico’s sleeping form. She begins to shake her head, a smile playing at her own lips to mirror Percy’s.

 

Her dusty blonde hair is cut short and flips upward, and she is lithe and small like a pixie. She’s wearing a big tan jacket half zipped up to reveal a plain purple tee, and keeps her hands in her coats pockets after she hands over the sand dollar piece. “It’s good to know that you boys are being good to each other,” she says quietly, smirking as she parrots back James’s parting words.

 

Percy shrugs. “We’ve been up and down since we met, but,” he glances over at Nico, making sure he’s still asleep before saying, “But I guess we just needed to be in a car alone together for a while.”

 

Ceto regards him fondly, shaking her head and keeping her grin all the while. “You boy’s are really something else,” she says, scratching the back of her head. “For completely different reasons individually, because _he_ —“

 

She looks at Nico like he is something precious – and he is, but Ceto looks at him like she can’t tell you how many would kill for him. She shakes her head at the sleeping boy, and then quietly giggles when she looks back and Percy is sort of frowning at her like he doesn’t trust her anymore.

 

She goes, “Relax,” and punches his arm gently. “I just mean he’s not someone you wanna be letting go of easily. I’m not gonna snatch your boyfriend—“

 

Percy jumps at this, leaning out of the window to punctuate as close to Ceto as he can, “No,” and then, “No, no, no, no he’s not my—we’re not—neither of us even—“

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ceto says, waving her hand and then pushing Percy away. “Cuz this is how it’s gonna go. James ‘n Hali have spent all day covering your trail, but there’s one ghoulie we can’t seem to beat down. In fact, I don’t even know if you’re gonna be able to because water doesn’t do much to it, it may have to be him—“ Here she motions to Nico, sighs, and then continues, “But. Anyway, you’ve gotta cross the desert tomorrow, and you’re gonna meet Pelagia sometime after that, and then right after that, you have to meet Asterion. So I don’t care if you need to speed or go off the road or what, but you need to get it to Asterion by the day after tomorrow or there’s no way you can reach your brother. Give Asterion the rest of the sand dollar, and that thing around your neck, with the creature inside it, and he’ll take you to the island of Hawaii in record time. And if you wanna make it there alive, keep the Ghost King by your side, because he’s the most powerful asset you could ask for.”

 

It’s all sort of forced at Percy, a lot of information real fast, and he glances at Nico like he needs to make sure he’s safe and still there, before looking back out the window, but Ceto is gone, quick as she came. In the space between he and Nico is the next piece of the sand dollar, which Percy pockets with a huff.

 

He turns the car off, steals Nico’s jacket that he had left off and laid in the seat and uses it as a pillow, and tries to get some sleep.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

“ _Oh, I wish I had someone to love me_. _Someone to call me their own_. ”

 

Percy’s eyes snap open. With his swift hero instincts, he quickly assesses that he is still in the truck, it is early morning by the sun’s position, and the passenger door is open. Another car zips by him on the lonely road, and he jolts up, getting a good look at the rearview mirror and the sight it presents to him.

 

Nico is standing on his tip-toes, rummaging through Percy’s backpack in the bed of the truck and – and singing some song. He is without his jacket, and it takes Percy a second to realize that’s because it’s still under his head. He groggily wakes up, slowly stretching his arms out the window to let Nico know he’s there.

 

“ _Oh, I wish I had someone to live with_ ,” Nico continues, idly opening up a granola bar from the front of Percy’s bag. “ _Cuz I’m tired of living alone.”_

 

A lazy smiles creeps unto Percy’s face as he hangs out the window and waits for Nico to notice him, but until he does, Percy is content to enjoy the show. It’s about seven or eight in the a.m. and Percy has a stiff neck from sleeping like he did. He wishes he was in a bed and could roll over and proclaim, “Five more minutes,” but he’s still in Nebraska, in that awful truck, with Nico di Angelo, and he can’t.

 

“ _Oh, please meet me tonight in the moonlight_ ,” goes Nico, and he’s quiet now, his voice all hushed like he’s unto Percy. Eventually, he finds what he’s looking for, James’s map, and jumps unto the bed of the truck, sitting off the side of it and swinging his feet gently as he unrolls it and lays it on his lap. “ _Please, meet me tonight, on your own_ … Ah, no, wait, that’s not— _tonight all alone_ —yeah, that’s it.”

 

At that, Percy laughs, and Nico drops his granola bar and nearly flings the map to the ground. He jumps, like a cat on a fence that Percy’s thrown a rock at, and falls into the bed of the truck, rocking the whole car as Percy’s chuckle turns into boisterous laughter.

 

Nico sputters about a zillion different insults before Percy finally gets out and goes to help him. He rests his head on the side of the bed, smirking down at Nico smugly before Nico tries to kick him in the face and yells, “You could’ve told me you where there, you jerk!”

 

“I did,” Percy nods, raising his hands in surrender, and then offers one to the other boy. “You were just off in your own little pop-star world, I guess. Got a nice set of pipes on you, by the way.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” says Nico, but he takes the hand in front of him anyway and Percy pulls. In one fluid motion, he is sitting over the side of the truck again, his legs finding their place on either side of Percy, and then he simply stares.

 

He’s still bearing Halimeda’s gift of power, not having used of it since Poseidon swiped it for him, but up-close as Percy is, he can really see just how much it changed Nico. He’s never seen the boy look so healthy – there are nearly no bags under his eyes, he finally looks like he’s had the appropriate amount of water and doesn’t seem in the least big dehydrated like he usually does – and his eyes have look to have taken back some of the light they lost when Bianca died. Percy smiles, because Nico deserves to look like this all the time, and he wonders what people back at camp would say if they saw him look so… OK.

 

But Nico doesn’t seem to be thinking the same thing. It isn’t that he looks shocked or confused, like he did when Percy was bawling into his shoulder the other night – there’s actual fear in his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get it out of his windpipe so he just gapes at Percy like a fish until the son of Poseidon gets the message, stepping back and frowning like, _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do whatever I did_.

 

Nico seems to brush it off quick enough, looking to the side and clearing his throat loudly. He jumps down back unto the ground and Percy marvels quietly at the color Halimeda put back on his face so he doesn’t permanently look like he’d risen out of a grave.

 

Then Nico makes some noise about wanting to get another one of those milkshakes from ‘Star Dollars’ and Percy loses it again – and just like that, they’re back on track.

 

They stretch appropriately and whine about how they wish they could spar for a little bit (“Come on,” Nico says, nudging him with his shoulder. “We could be quick. Like, no one is coming down the road.” And Percy puts his foot down and goes, “No,” calling on the powers of Sally Jackson and her ability to squash the dreams of a young teenage boy. “It’s too risky – get in the car.”), and when they get back on the road Percy shows Nico the newest piece of their sand dollar and fills him in about Ceto and what she said.

 

Well, most of what she said. He leaves out the part about Nico being his most powerful asset, but he’s not sure why. When the naiad had said that to him, Percy had been gripped by this weird, almost protective sensation. Like he was angry someone else knew that about Nico. He remembers Nico being young and angry, led on by King Minos, and raising an entire army of undead soldiers before proclaiming himself the Ghost King. And he remembers Nico pulling Percy through the shadow lanes all over the place and then to the underworld, and then putting all of Hades’s guards to sleep before he finally started to show signs of wearing thin. And when Percy told him he needed him, that there would be no nap that day, Nico jumped to attention and trudged on.

 

It starts to slowly sink in that no one seems to realize (well, no one but the water sprites, at least), that Nico is probably the most powerful demigod at Camp Half-Blood. He’s nearly three years younger than Percy and he can do all sorts of crazy shit before he even breaks a sweat – whereas Percy still gets a little lightheaded whenever he plays with water too much.

 

But Nico will be eighteen one day, and Percy’s sure that when that day comes, he will have the power to tear Percy down ten times over, and he still will not use it. Because Nico’s as loyal as he is strong, ( _as honest as he is dense_ , Hades’s voice rings in his ears), and even when Percy leaves camp to do fuck-all, Nico will keep coming just to sing Percy’s praises; he will still, in that roundabout, gruff way of his, belittle himself to the campers that he is nothing compared to Percy Jackson, the Great Prophecy’s Hero, Poseidon’s Favorite Son, Leader of the Seven Half-Bloods That Answered the Call, and so on.

 

And Percy wonders if he will ever be able to convince Nico that that’s all he is – a bunch of titles he got by luck, a bunch of happenstances and coincidences that played in his favor only because people like Nico were there to hold him up.

 

But Nico doesn’t need titles to be a great person. He doesn’t need a prophecy to make people know that he is great – hell, when his godparent took his powers away, he still laid his life on the line for Percy and his family.

 

“What is it?” Goes Nico, interrupting Percy from his thoughts as they zoom across empty Nebraska roads.

 

And Percy looks at him. He puts his thoughts on hold, and he turns his head to look at Nico, and genuine curiosity and worry are all there, all shoved in his face, because Nico is shit at hiding his feelings and wears his heart on his sleeve, and Percy begins to remember.

 

He remembers that one time he broke his arm because he stopped a chariot from falling unto some tiny Hermes Kid, and Annabeth had bandaged him up. And he had said, I’m sorry, for making her do this and patching him up, and she had looked at him like she couldn’t believe how he was so stupid and wonderful all at once, and she had pressed the gentlest, most genuine and tender kiss to the corner of his eyebrow, and she had told him that if there was one thing she loved more than anything about Percy, it was the way he loved people, and how he cared so much about them, and how selfless he was, and so on.

 

Percy thinks he is nothing compared to Nico in that aspect. Nico, whose hope and optimism is continually nearly extinguished, and who still manages to trust and care for and love people.

 

He goes, “Nothing,” and keeps driving, smiling at the road, and Nico shrugs and starts talking about what exit to take, and Percy thinks that he’s OK with being nothing compared to Nico. He thinks that’s just fine.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

After Nebraska they just drive south for a while, and Percy thinks that he’s found it. He’s found the worst part of the country.

 

The desert is ridiculously sandy and it just doesn’t end. They drive an hour in complete silence, before Nico loses it and screams to the empty road that this is bullshit, and Percy can’t agree more.

 

They’re actually not all that far from Las Vegas, a good two or three hundred miles from the city, but they’re not trying to go into Nevada at all.  The plan is, cross the desert, fight the beast in the desert (whatever it is, Percy and Nico both grumble about how big a pain in the ass it is when the gods and their workers can’t be a little more damn specific), and then crash at the Colorado River, the juncture between Arizona and Southern California.

 

“Then after that,” Percy drawls, trying his best to not scream his unholy wrath (coming mostly from heat and boredom) out into the dreary, sandy Arizona desert, “It’s sweet ol’ L.A. You up for it?”

 

“Please,” Nico scoffs, his cheek digging into his fist as he watches the desert get bigger and bigger the more they drive on. “I’m ready for _anything_. I’m so sick of being in a car. Whatever this monster is, I wish it’d hurry up and show up so I could—“

 

There is a thump that comes from over their heads, like a rock being pelted onto the top of the truck, and Percy glances out the rearview mirror and sees a mass of fire crackling back at him.

 

He screams, and lets his instincts take over, which is an awful idea because his instincts say to floor it and spin the wheel rapidly off the rode, and the wheels of the truck get caught up in dusty Arizona landscape and nearly spin themselves off the car. They spin in tight, crazed circles before the car finally stops spinning and Percy and Nico finally stop screaming.

 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Nico yells, unhooking his seatbelt and clambering out of the truck, and he’s pale and shaking and sweating and Percy tries to tell him the car is on fire, but he can’t quite catch  his breath and Nico looks pissed. “Percy, you fucking asshole—you can’t just spin the car when I say I’m bored, you idiot, what were you—“

 

Percy watches Nico go as still as the grave as his eyes fall upon the ball of fire on the head of the truck, and he doesn’t say anything more as his black eyes go wide and his mouth falls open, and from above his head, Percy hears the shrill cry of an eagle over the cracking of fire.

 

Nico jumps back into the car just in time to dodge a funnel of fire, and he climbs over to Percy’s side, ripping his seatbelt off and pushing him off and screaming, “Go, go, go,” and then something else that Percy thinks might be important, but he can’t hear it over the screams of a bird of prey and the sound of his face hitting the earth as Nico shoves him out of the truck.

 

And here’s the thing about running from something in the middle of the fucking desert – there’s no where to run. Its all sand and dirt and dust and maybe a cactus if you’re lucky. And so when Percy’s mind goes blank and his legs take over for him, just running to try and catch up to Nico, he finds the capacity to rub two brain cells together and form the thought – _where the hell do I_ go?

 

He ganders a look over his shoulder, but he can’t even look at the monster for more then a second because when it flaps its wings it’s like a miniature sun, all fiery tendrils and a screaming ferocity, but he finds his legs stopping when he finally fixes it with a stare.

 

Nico is a couple feet away from him, and he doesn’t need to turn and look to know he’s swinging his Stygian blade around – the thing sucks the life (and more importantly, the heat) out of the air around it, and Percy can feel the coldness seep into his skin so that the fire from the monster on the truck isn’t so bad. Nico takes a fighting stance, his legs spread apart and his sword in front of him, only half lowered, and says, “That’s a phoenix – my dad sent a fucking phoenix after us.”

 

And Percy doesn’t need to be a scholar to be familiar with the word. As he regards the bird, flapping its wings so that it rises into the air like a second sun, he ponders out loud, “Didn’t know they were Greek,” as he uncaps Riptide and swings it to the side. The blade hasn’t seen the light of day in quite some time, and Percy’s itching to get Riptide’s help in getting some of his pent-up energy out.

 

“Everything’s Greek,” Nico says, irritated, but Percy can hear his spirits lift as he poises his feet to the right, ready to dart off. “We need to split up and get it away from the truck – that’s our only ride and my dad can pry it from my cold, dead fingers. You’ve got the cage, right?”

 

Percy reaches up, clasping his free hand around the pendant Halimeda gave him, and smirks. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Circle close and trap it underground?”

 

Nico looks to him, and for a second it’s like they’re not fighting a giant firebird, because Nico smiles real friendly and goes, “You know me too well,” before he’s running off and the bird is screeching at him.

 

Rolling his eyes, Percy follows the motion, mirroring it and running in the opposite direction. The bird flaps its wings again, billowing out heat Nico’s sword eats up like a black hole, but it seems the Stygian sword isn’t enough to render it powerless, because it circles higher up into the sky and with another scream, shoots fire outward in ten different directions.

 

Percy manages to dodge the billows of flame, but not like Nico does – Nico looks like he was made to dance, spinning out of the way with this crazed smile as he swings his black blade and lets it cut through the fire of the phoenix. He barely cuts the tip of one wing, which does seem to do substantial damage to the bird, but it’s obviously not enough to weaken it into the cage around Percy’s neck.

 

Which—uh, is something else. How are they supposed to get a giant bird made of fire into this little thing? He thinks of Halimeda, and how she had snatched the necklace away from Percy when he tried to open it, and he groans. He wants to explain to Nico the plan of attack, but Nico is too busy falling into him, landing from his leap at the bird.

 

“We need to get it—“

 

“Lower,” Percy finishes, nodding. “Can you raise the ground under it? The necklace is—“

 

“Like a black hole, yeah, I figured,” Nico is already back in fighting stance, the turning gears of his mind visible in the dark of his eyes. “You’ll have to get it down, I don’t know how much juice I have to use.”

 

Percy nods, lets Nico fall back and concentrate on raising the crumbling, sandy ground as he takes his own stance against the phoenix. He knows no water he can throw at the bird can put out the fire, but maybe he can irritate it enough to bring it down that way. The problem is – he doesn’t know where he’s gonna get water at all in this part of the desert. He licks his lips, thinks real hard about the bottled water under his seat, and wills it to roll out of the truck.

 

It’s hard to call the water closer to him while dodging spirals of fire getting blown at him, but Percy hasn’t come this far for nothing. He thinks of Nico, how he wields his sword like it’s an extension of his arm, and mirrors the position, Riptide facing the phoenix and Percy’s free arm relaxed at his side. His fancy footwork keeps him from getting burnt, and the position seems to anchor his resolve pretty well because the water eventually gets to him.

 

He has some qualms about wasting their drinking water, but Percy thinks that that he’ll cross the bridge of Nico whining to him about that when he gets to it. His right hand holds Riptide, extended towards the bird, as his left curves into a fist that somehow springs the caps of their bottled water off. The phoenix doesn’t seem to be concerned with bottled Aquafina rolling across the sand, though, and instead charges at Percy.

 

The plan is simple: keep the phoenix down with Percy and hit it just enough to piss it off and keep it close, but not too strong so that it retreats. It’s sounds pretty straightforward written out and put like that, but from Percy’s end it’s a little more complex, because he has to not get burnt by the fire that is slowly closing in on him, hit a small sun in the shape of a bird, but not too hard, listen to Nico’s chanting behind him, whispering to the earth to do his bidding, and work his own magic on the bottles of Aquafina that are going to roll away if Percy doesn’t move quick.

 

And maybe it’s not exactly the hero thing to do, but Percy finds himself rolling his eyes, because, dammit, he needs that water. He’s got a very a basic set of skills, and they are sassing and talking his way out of problems and using water to upset things. In this situation, he’s pretty sure the bird doesn’t care what he says. So instead he ducks another shot of fire and calls the water over. He doesn’t shoot it right at the bird, though (he’s got more strategy sense than that), instead pulling the water to him and using it as a shield to protect him from another round of flame, although Percy nearly drops it all because of the steam that results from the fire.

 

The phoenix doesn’t seem to like this. Staying low to the ground, the bird begins to circle Percy, its blazing eyes (and blazing everything else) clearly irritated, so Percy pats himself on the back for that one.

 

“ _Hurry_ _up_ ,” he sings at Nico, shooting just a little bit of the water in front of him at the phoenix, and only in the important places – a shot under it’s wing, a shot at it’s face, and so on. But it doesn’t seem to do any damage because the feathered flames seem to just pop right back up.

 

“I’m _trying_ ,” Nico hisses back, and Percy takes just a second to note that his hair doesn’t look quite so glossy anymore, as he crouches down and tries to make a deal with the dirt below him. He can’t focus on his companion for too long, though, because while the water doesn’t seem to affect the phoenix, it sure does piss the thing off.

 

Percy can’t stand the steam and the heat anymore and officially switches from defense to offense, billowing the rest of the water at his command right into the phoenix’s face. In reply, the bird screams, a shrill, ear-piercing sound that makes Percy want to bury his head in the sand, but he has to be quick, taking his fighting stance and using Riptide to slash at the bird. If he can’t protect himself from the fire, he’ll just have to keep striking again and again so that the phoenix doesn’t have time to shoot anymore out.

 

“I’ve got it,” Nico cries, jumping to his feet and raising his hand, the earth rumbling with his movement that is really not comforting at all. “Percy—you have to move, I can’t trap you both—“

 

“You’re gonna have to,” Percy yells back, jumping from side to side to strike the bird in all the right places. A cut to the neck, a hit to the beak, a slash at the wing, but it’s never enough to really do damage, in fact it’s barely enough to keep the phoenix level with him, the only reason the bird doesn’t draw back to really roast Percy is because he’s just scarcely too quick for it. “Just go, I’ve got the locket, just do it—“

 

“Percy, you’ll burn alive,” Nico shouts, his feet shuffling, like he wants to move and help so bad but he can’t break his concentration and the earth is rumbling to have his full attention. “Percy, jump back, just move—just roll away, I can’t hold the ground much longer and you—“

 

Percy doesn’t waver, doesn’t retreat, just keeps striking and tries to call out, “I’ve got the cage, I can do it, just _move_ , just go,” but it all sort of comes out in one word because Percy can’t quite form sentences in the situation he’s in, but at least Nico listens, because the next second, the ground rises up and swallows them.

 

Nico is left in the barren desert, his hair disheveled and laced with sand and he finally lets go of the earth, lets it fall back because he can’t worry about Percy and hold up the earth at the same time. In a second, he’s crossed the distance between the mound he’d raised and the spot he’d raised it from, but jumps back when he feels the ground vibrate with the ferocity of the phoenix’s shriek and when the mound of earth begins to burn and bubble from the fire inside.

 

He thinks he screams Percy’s name, but in a second, the fire is gone and the land is still. Nico gives himself half a second to catch his breath and lick his lips before he tries to touch the still-hot raised ground, but as his fingers barely graze the sand, Riptide slashes out from the covering and nearly cuts Nico’s hand off.

 

He hears himself go, “Thank Hades,” quiet as a prayer, as Percy hacks himself out of the ground. He is covered in ashes and burn marks, but he’s very blatantly alive. In fact after he cuts himself out of the ground, he dusts himself off and has the nerve to smile at Nico.

 

“Told you I had it,” he says, like nothing had happened at all. “Had the cage right with me, you coulda just—“

 

And then it finally happens. After years of both boys bracing themselves for the day the dam finally broke, they are both equally surprised when it finally transpires. When Percy woke up that morning, he didn’t know he’d cross the line and have it happen that day, and when Nico had showed up in Percy’s cabin, he didn’t realize that this quest would finally test his patience and break him. But fate is funny like that, and Percy is used to surprises like Nico is used to jumping over the edge of his temper, and, long story short, Nico punches him in the face.

 

It nearly pushes Percy back into the cage of earth Nico had raised up, but he manages to catch himself on the door he hacked out with his sword. The hand that isn’t holding Riptide comes up to caress the cheek Nico’s fist had plowed into, and Percy gapes at Nico while the other boy heaves out heavy, labored breaths, before finally spitting out, “You are an _idiot_.”

 

Percy tries to sputter and ask what this is about, but Nico beats him to punch and goes on to say, “A self-sacrificing, dramatic, _idiot_.”

 

After a moment of silence, Percy rubs his cheek, half because his face hurts, and half to get the ash off his skin, and goes, “Yeah, probably,” which seems to just make Nico angrier.

 

Nico is staring at him like he wants to say something that has been bottling up inside him, but every time he opens his mouth, he just closes it again. Eventually Percy holds up the necklace, burning bright and fiery with the light of the phoenix trapped inside it, and Nico just rolls his eyes.

 

“And you look ridiculous,” he says, as he stomps his way back to the truck. Percy watches him go, a fond and warm feeling glowing from the corners of his heart more than enough to make him forget that heat that had seconds ago threatened to swallow him whole.

 

He doesn’t have time to really process the feeling, because when Nico gets back to the truck, he finally figures out how to blow the horn and just leans on it, scowling indignantly at Percy until he marches his way across the desert and cries, “OK, OK! Gods, you’re such a brat sometimes!”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

They drive until the sun sets, just going west to the River, and it is very quiet.

 

It isn’t the sort of quiet where something’s wrong, or where anyone feels awkward, but more the type of quiet where Percy is covered in ash and soot and keeps coughing, so they just drive in silence, the radio soundless, as they watch the sun begin to creep down the mountain side and out of their sight.

 

He glances at Nico. When the son of the death feels Percy’s eyes on him, he looks up and holds Percy’s gaze. It is not awkward in the slightest, there is no judging, there is no unspoken conversation. It is just the two of them, comfortable enough to just look at each other, Percy looking like he just blew up his science project, and Nico blowing a large bubble with the gum from Percy’s bag.

 

And when Nico decides the moment is over and goes back to watching the road – then the moment is over.

 

The encounter is a quick little thing, nothing memorable or striking, nothing to write home about – but Percy finds that as he drives through the darkening landscape, the way Nico had regarded him, blowing a bubble with gum and with his eyes all casual and his elbow propped up on the window as the wind tousled his hair, it is all he can think about.

 

And not in a way that’s distracting, not like the memory is at the forefront of his mind. But more like if the image was a song, it would be the perfect background music to Percy’s whole life.

 

“You need a shower,” Nico finally says after a while, his feet propped up on the dashboard again. “I need a shower. _Gods_ , my hair feels so gross I’m waiting for it to just slide off my head, ugh.”

 

Percy sort of chuckles at that, though it turns into a cough because he’s at least 60% sure there is soot stuck in this throat. “Why don’t you cut it?” he asks, easily, like they’re just two guys on a casual, quiet road trip. Like they do this for fun every year.

 

Nico shrugs. “Bianca liked to play with it.” He twirls a lock of it around his finger, sighing comfortably into the leather interior of the truck. “And I guess… I guess I’ve just had it like this so long it’d feel weird to have it any other way.”

 

“You don’t ever want shorter hair?” Percy asks, quietly.

 

Slowly, Nico goes back to looking at him, the sort of easy, comfortable look that he had given him earlier. He looks like he’s going to tell a story, but all that comes out of his mouth (his thin-lipped, tiny, pale, barely-open with lips just slightly parted when he listens to Percy speak mouth) is, “D’you think it’d look OK?”

 

Percy considers the question. He knows Nico is looking at him, even as he slows to a stop. He turns the car off and just sits there for a second – truly drinking in the silence of the night. The crickets are quiet but there, and the night air has this peculiar scent, like the smells from the surrounding cities come to settle quietly here at night.

 

Right before he opens the door, he turns to Nico and he says, “I guess.”

 

The moon is full over them as Percy climbs out of the truck. He runs his hands through his crazy, semi-fried hair, and takes a deep breath of the atmosphere, all cool and refreshing as it settles into Percy’s lungs and Nico’s bones. The river before them is thin, possibly just a stream sprouting from their destination, but Percy met the James River in Philadelphia, so he figures he’s safe.

 

He crouches by the stream, picking up a handful of water and splashing it into his face. He washes the ash from his skin, and afterwards he sort of stares at his wet hands, and then he shrugs, and unceremoniously dunks his entire head in. When he pulls his head back up, shaking it like a wet dog, he hears Nico go, “Oh, Percy,” like Percy’s a little kid who just put his whole hand in the cake mix.

 

“Look,” Percy starts, messing his sopping wet hair out of his face with both hands. “It does the job. Maybe if we ask nice we can get a bath from Penny… Phyllis… Uh.”

 

Nico starts to ask why Percy why he’s so bad with their names, to which Percy would’ve replied with “Hey, shut up,” as he splashed the other boy with water, but neither of them get to say anything. The space Percy’s head had been a moment ago begins to glow cyan, bubbling with this bright energy boiling upwards, eager to escape the confines of the river, and Percy is quick to jump back, standing just the slightest bit in front of Nico, like he’s gotta be ready to shove him away if some other monster comes at them.

 

But there is no new monster to face, only the dainty, snow pale hand of a woman. She slowly emerges from the water, tall and serene and graceful as she steps out, her bare feet against the grass as she approaches them.

 

Nico and Percy share a glance. Another telepathic conversation is shared between them, but this time it’s just Nico raising his eyebrows like, _See? What did I tell you? Water people. All show offs._ And Percy shrugging because he can’t fight that logic.

 

“Pelagia,” the woman whispers, and even her words sort of glow. She’s different from the others in that she’s a little less River in the Country and a lot more Greek Sprite, very tall and curvy and with dark, pinned back hair that cascades over one shoulder. Her dress is definitely Greek-inspired, a mix of whites and pale blues on the fabric. When she gets close enough to them, she sighs, like she’s grateful to be out of the river for a while. Rolling her shoulders and nestling into this physical form, she fixes the two heroes before her with a warm smile.

 

“A son of the sea, and a child of death,” she muses, looking between them. “That’s precious. And look how far you’ve come.”

 

Pelagia is a little… matronly. The sight of her makes Percy’s bones ache, like this is what he’s been looking for. Not an end to his quest, not the child he seeks, but the warm embrace of the Naiad before him. For a moment he wants nothing else then to curl into her arms with Nico and sleep the exertion from battling the phoenix away.

 

“Precious,” Percy parrots back, scratching the back of his head and smiling like, _if you say so_. “Yeah, that’s what I think when I see the two of us, huh Nico?”

 

The naiad smirks at the remark, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip to the side. Her eyes flick between Nico and Percy, sizing them up like she’s trying to pick a favorite. “You boys make good time. I thought for sure you’d find a harder enemy in the phoenix.”

 

“What?” Percy barks one quick laugh, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to look at Nico. “Are you kidding? The guy has a sword that absorbs heat. Water doesn’t really do much to a bird that rises into fire from its own ashes.”

 

Nico sort of shoves at him, pursing his lips into a fine line and grumbling out, “Please. I couldn’t have trapped it if you didn’t keep it occupied. Do you always have to be so modest?”

 

“ _I’m_ being modest?” Pelagia forgotten, Percy turns to face Nico fully, shaking his head at the smaller boy like he can’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth. “Nico—you had the teeniest bit of your powers accessible, and you still trapped it _underground_ without breaking a sweat. Take some credit, OK?”

 

Nico looks like he doesn’t want to argue. He averts his eyes from Percy, looking in the opposite direction as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket. “Only did it with my powers. You did it with just a sword.”

 

And Percy does his very best not to react to that but he gets the feeling Pelagia can tell he’s fuming by the way her eyebrows shoot up at him. He just—He doesn’t understand why Nico can’t just take a compliment. Why does he have to make it all about Percy? Why can’t he share the spotlight, what is with his stage fright when it comes to taking some credit where credit is due?

 

Pelagia watches them for a moment after their quick spat, amusement clear on her pale face, but both boys pretend they don’t see it. Eventually, Pelagia giggles a quiet laugh behind her palm and looks away, like she can’t look at them another minute without bursting into uproarious laughter.

 

Percy can practically hear Nico’s head spin to look at her, and he doesn’t need to glance over at him to know he’s giving the naiad a dirty look.

 

“I’m sorry,” Pelagia says through the giggle, her laughter a soothing chorus of bells and chimes. “I don’t mean to offend. You boys—the two of you just—“ She stops, stilling herself and shaking her head, still smiling. “You’re so _different_.”

 

She doesn’t say anything else. It occurs to Percy that she’s waiting for some rebuttal or reaction, and he opens his mouth to say something like, “Well, yeah, obviously,” but Nico beats him to the punch gracefully.

 

He sighs, in that way he does where he sounds exhausted and irritated all at once. Hands still in his pocket, he looks up and down the stream before asking, as blunt as ever, “Can I wash my hair in you?”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

“Meditate with me, son of Poseidon.”

 

No one has ever said those words to Percy, so he sort of freezes up at the invitation. He’s kept to himself since he was left alone with the naiad, Nico abandoning him for a cool bath, and wasn’t really looking to strike up a conversation with her when Nico had ditched him, but after she says it and Percy looks at her and she looks back, Percy finds saying no to be out of the question.

 

Because Pelagia is different than any other sprite, god, or magical creature Percy has ever met. She has this motherly, sweet air to her that makes you want to do whatever she says. Saying no to her would feel too much like Sally Jackson coming into Percy’s room with a tray of blue cookies and Percy throwing them on the floor – so he obliges, he says, “Uh, yeah, OK.”

 

He’s built a fire a ways away from the stream and the trees covering parts of it (as to give Nico some privacy, though he doesn’t know why. You know, if they were Roman instead of Greek, they’d have crossed that bridge already, maybe, but, whatever, Nico’s kind of prissy like that about some things, so Percy humors him). Pelagia sits next to the fire, her legs crossed and her pale dress spilling around her like she’s made of flower petals. Percy, still dirty and mostly covered in ash, finds himself putting a good bit of distance between the two of them, as not to get his host dirty.

 

“I find meditation to be essential when I have to maintain my physical form,” Pelagia says, with a voice like a quiet stream. “There is so much information to sort through – so many feelings to process. Though you have quite a bit of journey behind you, there is still much ahead. Meditate with me, and let me know if anything sticks out at you now that it is behind you.”

 

Percy says, intelligently, “Uh, sure.”

 

But Percy’s never really been one for meditation because – well, mostly because he’s too ADHD for it. He finds it difficult to sit and pay close attention to one thing while shutting everything off because he’s always been hyperaware of everything going on around him. He’s always gotten headaches easy because his brain is always trying to process every little thing and the point of meditation is to shut that off and just _be_. And Percy’s all for relaxing but—it’s just hard. He puts the thought away, and tries his best to find something to latch unto while he tunes the rest of his surroundings out.

 

He closes his eyes, and listens closely to the sound of the crickets singing and the fire crackling and his breath steadying and the phoenix glowing and surging with energy around his neck and the water bending around Nico’s lithe, pale form.

 

_Nico._

 

Nico lounging pretentiously in Chiron’s leather chair; Nico bashfully turning away from Poseidon in the water; Nico trapped between the Stoll Twins and going redder than Percy’s ever seen him; Nico getting excited about old songs coming on the radio and singing like he was alone – Nico being comfortable enough with Percy to sing like that around him; Nico sleeping in the truck, curled into a little ball with his hair framing his face, curling just so in all the right places and some strands at the end flipping up and his eyelashes long and thick, barely kissing the skin of his cheeks, flushed slightly with the heat, and his mouth open just the slightest bit, moving slowly to breathe quiet puffs of breath as he turns to get comfortable and—

 

Percy’s eyes snap open.

 

He jerks, because he hears this loud, gods-awful sound, but then stills before he can jump to his feet when he realizes the sound is only his heartbeat, his own blood thumping loudly in his ears like he’s fighting for his life. Pelagia glances at him, smiling still throughout her meditation, but Percy looks away pointedly and she doesn’t press.

 

He finds, now, that he can no longer hear the crickets or the phoenix or the fire – only the sound of water dancing gently around the form of a boy past the trees. Percy nearly chokes – has to remind himself to breathe, has to remind himself that he is safe and here and everything is OK because this feeling is strong and all-encompassing and hits him like a freight train.

 

Eventually, he hazards a look at Pelagia. She isn’t looking back, but after a moment she feels his eyes on her and opens her own. They are clear and blue-grey, silver and pale blues like the fabric of her dress and she looks at Percy like he’s telling her something she already knows.

 

“Breathe, hero,” she commands, soft and patient.

 

Percy gasps out a breath and finds that he’s been holding his. He gives himself a moment to regulate his breathing before he feels his fingers dig into his knees and he forces himself back into the meditation.

 

_Anything but Nico_ , he chants, before beginning to relive the past few days.

 

Will Solace grasping his hand (Nico rolling his eyes pointedly); James marking the rivers to follow in the diner (Nico’s ankle brushing his, Nico looking up at Percy through his eyelashes and mouthing, “Sorry”); The phoenix flapping it’s massive wings, sending waves of heat out and the way that Nico had looked excited at the prospect of fighting it, how he had moved into fighting position quick as lightning, his legs straight and ready to bolt, and his sword an extension of his arm, the skin of his wrist and forearm visible without his bomber jacket covering him and the way Percy could see the muscles go taut, Nico himself ready to snap like a bow and—and, _fuck_ , this isn’t working.

 

What is _wrong_ with him? Why is all of this slamming into him now, why is he suddenly so hyperaware of how close Nico had been sitting to him, and how his hair had framed his face perfectly when he was looking at the menu in the diner, and how powerful and lovely he had looked fighting the phoenix in the desert—and Percy has to stop, has to quit while he’s ahead.

 

When he looks up, Pelagia has lost all interest in him. Percy knows she can feel him freaking out over here, but it’s almost—it’s almost like this is what she wanted and Percy cannot fathom a motive for her, cannot perceive a single reason she would want to make him go down this road, or how she would know that he would, or, or what.

 

He thinks of how warm and shivering Nico was, back in the car, when Percy had put his head on Nico’s bony little shoulder and cried about Annabeth. He can feel Nico’s chin brush the top of his head and he can feel Nico’s fingers curl slowly and awkwardly around his shoulder here, at the fireside, with Pelagia.

 

“I’m,” he chokes out, the fire making him too hot this close. “I think I’m done—“

 

“Nonsense,” Pelagia quips, eyes closed and frame still. “You are shaking. Think, and think hard. What ails you?”

 

Except Percy’s pretty fucking sure Pelagia knows what ails him, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why she is the second naiad on this trip to want pair he and Nico up. And gods, he and Nico? It would never work. They’re ridiculous. Percy’s born from the sea and Nico’s born from the underworld; he’s saltwater and Nico’s grave soil.

 

He shakes his head, pursing his lips, and he tells Pelagia, “I don’t know I just—I’m rattled, I guess. Phoenix and all.”

 

Pelagia sighs, “Ah, yes. Of course,” like she doesn’t believe him, and Percy tries to dive back into the meditation.

 

Focus. Yes. Focus on the sea. He _is_ the sea. His blood is the foam of the waves and his heartbeat is the pounding of the tide. His reflexes are river rapids like his swordplay is a hurricane, and before he can stop it, he’s thinking about Nico again, his toes in the sand, his hair tousled and salty from the water, his smile unbidden and confident because it’s Percy he’s looking at, his hand reaching for him—and Percy has to cut it short again.

 

At this point, it’s just ridiculous. He shoves it all from his mind, makes it go blank and dark, and squeezes his eyes shut. He has a job to do. And the only reason he’s thinking about Nico is because he told him about Annabeth—and there it is. The answer to his problems.

 

He delves back in. This time, he fills the void with Annabeth. Annabeth and her curly, thick hair, and her tan skin all warm with the sun and if Percy was the sea than she was the shoreline, the beach he would always crash into. Annabeth in the sand as she watches Percy come up from the waters is so much easier to wrap his mind around, even if it sort of burns and hurts when he lets himself imagine rushing up to her and letting his hands find her waist, and feeling her warm giggling breath on his collar as she ducks her head into his neck.

 

But what if. And, OK, the thought is crazy, but Percy follows it all the way down the rabbit hole anyway, but—what if Nico could be the shoreline? What if Nico could be the graveyard and the river Styx and the rocky cliffs above the sea all at once? Percy feels his heart lurch into his throat, and then fall into his stomach immediately thereafter, as he lets himself have the thought of Nico pulling him from the water and guiding his hands to his own skinny waist.

 

And he would still be in his dark pants and his skull shirt because he would be shy. He would say he didn’t want to burn, and that he didn’t own a swimsuit, and Percy would pull his feet into the water anyway, because if Percy was the sea, then Nico would be his watery grave.

 

He lets his thoughts wander. He tells himself he has saved the world enough times to have these musings, and he lets himself think about Nico holding his hand on the beach, and Nico pushing him into the water, and Nico shoving Percy away when he tries to get him to swim with him, and he just goes with it. He feels his shoulders relax, feels his breath even out, and lets Nico di Angelo be the backdrop to his thoughts as he pursues various lines of thought.

 

And there is one thought that Percy trails after the whole way – about Nico being the grave and the shore all at once. He thinks that Nico could be whatever he wanted to be in ways Percy couldn’t. Nico doesn’t fit into any box and he doesn’t really play by a set of rules, and Percy thinks that maybe, that’s why he’s never realized Nico should be his best friend. Because he doesn’t fit into best friend. Sometimes he fits antagonist, or side kick, or friend, or family, but he moves around a lot. He dances circles around Annabeth and Grover and all of their friends because they all have their role and they play it well, where Nico just picks up pieces from every genre he likes and makes a role all his own – an ever-changing one.

 

That sort of makes Percy worry, if he’s honest. Will Nico not be his friend tomorrow?

 

He wants to take the thought further, but he is finally interrupted by Nico himself, standing barefoot in the grass with his hair still wet. He looks at Percy a little funny, but Percy can’t place it, and he doesn’t give himself the chance to. He finds it surprisingly hard to meet the boy’s eyes after his meditation.

 

Nico opens that thin mouth of his, then glances between Pelagia and Percy, licks his chapped lips, and says, “Your turn.”

 

So Percy goes. He finds it liberating to be free of the space by the fire, like Pelagia was poisoning his thoughts, except they follow him all the way past the trees and into the stream. He sighs, long and deep and like he has just run a marathon – then turns his head and sees that Nico has left his shampoo there for Percy.

 

He lets himself have a small smile, and then Percy takes his ash-covered clothes off and lowers himself into the cold water. Just as he has lowered himself into the stream the whole way, he notices a shimmering something is pressed close to a rock at the bottom of the river.

 

Upon closer inspection, it’s the final piece of the sand dollar. When Percy fishes the other pieces out of his pants pocket and lines them all up, they all snap close and fix themselves, like they were never broken apart at all.

 

The sight makes Percy realize he is close to the end of this journey, and he wants to feel his spirits lift at that, but he finds himself distracted. Somewhat bitterly, he begins to wash his dirty hair, and hopes that Nico is having a time with Pelagia equally as unnerving as his own.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Percy and Nico sleep outside that night – Percy in the bed of the truck, and Nico on the grass, like he’s more comfortable there. And Percy guesses he probably is, with his whole ground-thing. Percy wakes up a little earlier than Nico, greeted by the sight of the sun just peaking over the horizon, and he groans.

 

He is greeted with the sound of Pelagia giggling, and he jumps back at her presence. She looks like she did last night when she ushered them back to sleep and sank back into the water – serene and like she knows something they don’t. She smiles warmly at Percy, before glancing back at the sleeping Nico.

 

“You two will have to make haste,” she whispers. “The rivers say that Hades is bitter, but has called off the bounty on the head of the child you seek. But Asterion is still on a schedule, and he will not take you across the waters after today.”

 

Percy’s glad that he doesn’t have to worry about Hades anymore, but not so pumped that this Asterion guy is, far as he can tell, gonna be a real hard ass to work with. The guy needed not just a sand dollar (which Percy once gave to two different naiads, who split it, and still did what he wanted as quick as they could), but the power of the phoenix in the cage around Percy’s neck too.

 

“But when you get back,” she says, her smile widening. “My siblings and I will have a special gift for you. As a reward for being so polite, we’ll call it.”

 

Percy shrugs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to grin back. “Polite, yeah. Have you talked to Nico?”

 

Pelagia giggles again at that, nodding once. “For a bit, after you left. He didn’t meditate, but he offered some of his food to Hestia with the fire.”

 

At this, Percy barks a quick laugh. That’s such a Nico thing to do. When the comical moment passes, he looks back up at Pelagia, a question pressing against the back of his tongue that he isn’t sure he should voice. She stares back patiently, waiting, and after a moment, he sighs.

 

“Last… last night. By the fire. Why did you have me meditate?”

 

“Well, I told you,” she says, teasingly. “To clear your mind. Always best to have a head un-jumbled as possible.  And you seemed to have needed it. You were, how did you put it? Rattled.”

 

Percy glares at her like he’s mimicking the sleeping son of Hades on the ground, like he is, and always has been, about a million percent done with the woman in front of him. But, after a tense moment, he thinks, _who ever got a straight answer out of any of you guys, anyway_? And he lets it go.

 

“Yeah,” he goes, rubbing his neck. “OK. Well, thanks for the sand dollar. And the presents when we get back, in advance. I guess.”

 

Nico groans, still half-asleep at Percy’s rise in volume, and Pelagia laughs quietly once more before turning back to Percy. “There’s also a gift from Clyte under the seat,” she says, waving to Percy as she walks back towards the river. “Follow his map, and you should reach Asterion by noon. Make haste – for he isn’t so sweet as I.”

 

And with that – and Percy swears to his dad and Nico’s and Thalia’s and all the rest of them – Pelagia glows, turns into a fish, and then falls into the river where she swims away.

 

There is a very intense moment of silence, before Nico goes, voice groggy and thick with sleep, “Did that woman just turn into a—“

 

“Yeah,” Percy cuts him off, jumping off the back of the truck. “Yeah, she did.” Then, as he climbs into the truck and feels under the seat, he calls, “But that fish got us breakfast and said we got a deadline, so let’s move it, sleepin’ beauty!”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

They cross into California and Nico gets so excited he nearly spills his Star Dollars.

 

They’re almost there, and they agree that they can practically taste the Hawaiian waters as they swerve in and out of busy Californian traffic. Percy’s been driving mostly on lonely roads for this road trip, so it’s a little strange to be in congested lanes of cars again, but he finds he doesn’t mind – partly because the radio is working again and he can listen to pop songs, and partly because even if they’re in cars and several feet away from him, Percy finds its nice to be around people again.

 

Beside him, Nico taps out the beat to some Maroon 5 song on his knees and seems content to just watch the cars zip by, and Percy thinks it’s nice how they’re both here and eager to get this show on the road – eager to close this book and grab a baby and get the hell out of dodge.

 

Plus, now that they’re back on the road and making small talk about the California highways and the Greek Gods, Percy discovers it becomes much easier to regard Nico like he never had some weird beach romance fantasy about him. And Nico is blissfully unaware, just keeps talking about how he hates the heat, how he wants to get back to New York as soon as possible and hide out in the cold corners of the Hades Cabin, and it’s fine. It’s all fine and dandy.

 

Percy concentrates on the road ahead easy. He is not distracted by Nico’s bony fingers playing with the holes in his jeans, or his silky hair bouncing to and fro as he moves his head to speak and look out the window. He doesn’t feel a fraction like the way he felt the night before – and for that, he is grateful.

 

And then Nico leans into him and places his hand on Percy’s arm and goes, “Hey!” and Percy nearly goes off the road.

 

Nico says, excitedly, “50 miles to L.A.!” as he leans over Percy, pointing to the road sign to the left of him but Percy doesn’t exactly hear it because he is far too distracted by Nico’s hand resting against his arm. He’s pretty sure he jerks away, and that’s why Nico retracts and goes back to his side of the seat, but the thing is he’s not entirely repulsed by the motion. He wants to say, “Dude, you’re freezing”, but his tongue has gone stiff so he just nods aggressively that yeah, he sees that road sign too.

 

He can’t pretend Nico isn’t there, though, because Nico has taken this whole trip to get this comfortable with Percy and now that he’s at that level, he talks a lot. He yells at other cars and plays with the radio and talks to himself and helps Percy navigate the maps they stole from the Hermes Cabin, and Percy cannot just close his eyes and pretend he’s by himself because he has to navigate around the edge of Los Angeles to get to the beach he will supposedly find Asterion at.

 

And for some reason, the Nico beside him now is different than the one he left with. He wants to be heard and when Percy doesn’t talk to him enough he fills the silence with his own conversation. He doesn’t try to shrink into the corner of the seat and be invisible, now it’s like he wants Percy to know he’s here and if Percy doesn’t give him enough attention he will reach out and take it himself. And, you know, Percy can see why. They’re comfortable with each other and are best friends now, he guesses he can see why Nico would want to grab hold of that friendship and choke it and let everyone know that it’s his and it’s not getting away, because to an extent Percy sort of wants to do that but—but it’s different because Percy is still kind of scared.

 

He’s still kind of scared because he doesn’t know what Nico truly wants out of him and he doesn’t know what position in Percy’s life Nico wants to take. And gods, he wishes he could just turn his head and ask Nico but he can’t, because he as a job to do.

 

Percy takes a deep breath, pulling into a new lane of traffic as they take their last exist. Job, yes, focus on the job. Baby brother.

 

Apparently he says that last part out loud because he hears Nico go, “Why do you assume that?”

 

And Percy nearly jumps because it takes him a minute to realize he had spoken, but when he realizes he has, he sort of shrugs, lips pressed tight together. “I—I don’t know. I think I just feel it.”

 

“I just have noticed I’m the only person that has been referring to this poor kid as ‘they’ because I have no idea what it’s got going on between its legs – much less in it’s head.”

 

Percy makes the mistake of asking Nico what he means by that, and that is how they spend the last hour of their journey to L.A.: with Nico explaining the entirety of the gender spectrum to him.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Here’s the thing about the coast: it’s sort of all beach. This makes finding the right beach, where they are supposedly going to meet Asterion, pretty unreasonably hard.

 

“OK, we’re,” Nico starts, and then pauses, turning his head as Percy lays down the maps they’ve gotten. “We’re… right here. Probably.”

 

“This is ridiculous,” goes Percy, slamming the map in his hands back on the hood of the truck. “The place is all beach! How are we supposed to find the right beach! Nobody even gave me a name or a sign to look for.”

 

“Yeah, cuz they were too busy giving you breakfast, you ingrate,” says Nico, shedding his bomber jacket and tossing it into the truck. Percy follows him with his eyes, watching him and wondering what he could be doing because he looks like he’s about to take his clothes off and go swimming – which Percy would be fine with but, maybe on the way back, you know?

 

“What’re you—“ Percy’s brain sort of fuzzes out like the radio had done when Nico ties his hair up in a ponytail and starts rolling his pants up. “What are you _doing_?”

 

Nico tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear, too short to fit into the hair tie, and he’s looking upward through his lashes because he’s bending down to roll up the legs of his pants, and Percy can just hear his brain taking pictures of the image for future reference. Nico gives him this smirk of a smile, this teasing something that Percy can’t quite place, before he stands up and takes off his shoes.

 

“I hate to break it to you,” he says, tucking his shoes and socks underneath the seat of the truck. “But the beach is like, at least 50% dead stuff. It’s all crumbled, decomposing corpses compacted into little grains of sand. That’s sort of my deal, and I’m taking advantage of the dead stuff.” He looks up as he walks towards the beach, like he’s considering something, before continuing, “Well, and the general ground altogether. I don’t like spending too long away from solid ground. Like you don’t like spending too long away from the water, right?”

 

Percy considers this. He never really thought about it because all water was connected and he was always close to home in that aspect, but he supposed that he did take awful long baths, and his fantasies with Nico and Annabeth respectively had taken place on the beach. He shrugs, the only answer he’s going to give Nico, as he follows him closer into the tiny, secluded part of beach they’ve landed on. It is the middle of summer, and they have somehow found a part of beach that no one is mucking up, amazingly enough.

 

Nico takes slow, deliberate steps into the sand, his feet sinking into the scorching sand like he’s coming home from a long trip. He closes his eyes, sighs deep through his nose, and Percy watches him look as comfortable as he’s ever seen the kid.

 

He thinks that somewhere, there’s another long, drawn-out beach metaphor about Nico definitely being able to be the shore to Percy’s ocean, but Percy doesn’t really wanna think about it. Seeing Nico out of his jacket, so his pale sinewy limbs are visible, just asking for a good sunburn, with this weird, peaceful look on his face, it’s—well, it’s distracting, if Percy’s honest, and if he looks at Nico too long, he knows he will completely forget about their being on a schedule so he just doesn’t let himself have it.

 

But it doesn’t matter, because that he’s denying himself the thought is proof enough of just how bad he wants it – wants Nico in the sand, in a sunken ship, on the jagged rocks surrounding the beach, in a grave, in their truck, in his cabin, with him anywhere in any way Nico is willing to give himself, because Percy’s beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t be worried about what place in his life Nico fits into. He’s beginning to think he’ll just take what he can get.

 

_Focus_ , he berates himself, flexing the map in his hands and looking at it extra hard, like if he glares at it something will pop out he didn’t see before. He stares for as long as he can, getting a really intense staring-contest with the parchment going on, before his eyes start to water and he throws his head back dramatically.

 

“Why!” he shrieks, collapsing into wet sand of the shoreline. “ _Why_ didn’t I ask which beach to go to? How did I forget that the coast is literally all beaches? Why did they give me food and not the right directions?”

 

“Because they gotta make you work for it,” says Nico from behind him, and when he turns around, Percy sees that he is laying on the ground spread out like a starfish, eyes closed and enjoying – well, Percy can’t tell if he’s enjoying the sun or the sand.

 

“Dude,” Percy goes, crawling across the beach and punching Nico lightly in the stomach. “Get up, you’re gonna burn like crazy and then you’ll whine the whole way home.”

 

Nico hardly budges, He short of lurches and goes, “Oof,” but then he sort of tries to sink further into the sand, and Percy rolls his eyes and realizes that Nico has hit his helpful quota and the rest of the quest will most likely be up to Percy. He rolls his eyes, scooting back towards the water and letting the tide touch his feet, like the waves are calling him home, beckoning him into the water.

 

When Percy was at camp and having a bad day, he would swim to the bottom of the lake and let the water clear his thoughts. And sure, he had to clean the lake out, which took a couple of weeks, but when it was clean and pretty much universally known as Percy’s, it was his safe haven. When his resolve was crumbling, when he was feeling bad or missing his mom, he could fall to the bottom of the lake and let the water wash over him.

 

Watching the tide creep towards him is a lot like watching the lake from afar – there’s just this wild part of Percy that’s screaming to jump in. And he doesn’t know why it’s there, because he knows, logically, that he cannot spend all of his time in the water. But there’s an element to the sea especially that always makes him feel like he’s been travelling forever and he’s finally coming home.

 

And maybe it’s because Poseidon is down there. Maybe it’s because it makes him remember that he could’ve been immortal and lived his life in the sea kingdom. But mostly, Percy thinks it’s because the ocean is a big part of him, he was born of the ocean, and he will one day go back to the ocean, and he begins to wander if Nico feels that way about the Underworld, but he never completes the thought, because a hand comes out of the water and claws its fingers into the wet sand.

 

Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon and savior of the waking world, jumps to his feet and screams, like, well, like a young girl. Nico’s timely reaction to this is to do some weird backwards roll until he’s on his feet, his hair unkempt and out of the hair tie and everywhere and his eyes as wide as they can go, and Percy thinks, _you know, for going on a quest appointed by the Sea King himself, we don’t look very heroic right now, I’ll bet._

 

The hand gives rise to an arm, connected to a rather large set of shoulders, and slowly but surely, the form of a man rises from the tides. He is broad, tall, and shirtless and he crawls out of the ocean like he fell off a boat and is clawing his way back to civilization. Except, when he stands, he doesn’t look like a marooned boatman – he looks like a shark of a man, like a warrior. He rolls his shoulders, like he’s settling into his own skin, and then cracks his neck by tilting his head to either side.

 

_He isn’t so sweet as I_ , Pelagia’s voice rings in Percy’s head, and he thinks, _Goddammit_.

 

“The Poseidon Boy,” he says, and his voice is rough and deep and rumbles like a storm at sea. He looks Percy over like he’s a piece of meat, and when he glances at Nico, he gives a sneer Percy doesn’t quite appreciate. “You’ve made good time, but you could’ve stood to come a little earlier.”

 

“Well, we,” Percy goes, the words stumbling out of his mouth because there is something about Asterion that insinuates if you say the wrong thing, he holds the right to eat you like the shark he reminds you of. “We didn’t know which beach to find you, you know—“

 

“Which beach,” Asterion seethes, narrowing his beady eyes and tightening his large hands into fists. “I _am_ the beach, boy. I am the west coast; I could smell you coming when you hit the desert. You think I could not find you unless you called me?”

 

“No, sir,” jumps Percy, suddenly formal and frightened. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Well, maybe a little but—I know better now, haha!”

 

He looks at Asterion, who seems unimpressed, and then to Nico, who looks a little like a deer in headlights. Nico catches his gaze and waves at him, mouthing, _Go on_.

 

Percy mouths back, _What_? And then, _oh_! And begins fishing around in his pocket.

 

“I, um,” he starts, emptying his pockets until he feels the rough sand dollar he’d pieced together. “Was told that you wouldn’t help just anyone, so we brought payment—“

 

Asterion sneers a smile, and lets out a low chuckle as he looks to the side, like he doesn’t even have time for Percy. “Payment. Do you think I can be bought? I am The River God, boy, not a sniveling naiad hungry for—“ He stops when he sees the sand dollar, his eyebrows, dark and pierced on either side, drawing down quickly and mouth snapping shut. “…Where did you get that?”

 

“A, uh, little fishie told me it was a good way to go. I keep ‘em handy, you know.” Percy shrugs, like if he’s casual and cocky enough Asterion won’t scare the hell out of him anymore, but the River God just sort of seethes through his nose like an angry bull until he finally nods, sharp and hard.

 

“Smarter than you look,” he says, looking Percy over again. “The rumors make you out to be just a lucky boy with a big mouth and a talent for swordplay.”

 

“Oh, no,” Goes Percy, handing Asterion the sand dollar with a cocky sort of grin. “They’re completely right.”

 

For a tense moment, the River God seems to look like he’s going to fight Percy, make him prove that he’s worthy and if he doesn’t pass the test he’ll get eaten, but then he smiles, his shoulders moving up and down in a quiet, amused huff. “I see,” he says, not near as intimidating with that smile on his face. “I’ll take you to the island of the Sea Child. But your friend cannot come.”

 

At this, Percy drops the grin and whips his head around to Nico, who regards Asterion like he’s ready to fight if they need to. “What?” gapes Percy, looking between the two of them. “Why not? What, you’ll only take Poseidon Kids?”

 

“Of course not,” says Asterion, dropping the smile and frowning again. “He’ll drown. You can come because you can bend the water around you, but the graveyard boy cannot. He’ll have to stay here.”

 

And Nico nods, like he was expecting this, as he purses his lips and looks to the ground before glancing at Percy. He starts to open his mouth to say that that’s fine, he’ll just stay with the truck, but Percy charges up to him and grabs his hand, pulling him closer to Asterion. The smaller boy sputters gracefully, tries to get a good insult at Percy out of his mouth, but all of his words come out clipped and unfinished.

 

“That’s not a problem,” says Percy, his hand clamped tight around Nico’s, like someone will come and take him away. He looks at Asterion gravely, like he can’t communicate how badly Nico has to come with them. “I can bend it around him, too.”

 

Asterion stares at the two of them like he’s piecing together the last parts of a puzzle, eyes wide and mouth slightly open as his gaze flicks between them. Eventually, he purses his lips together, shaking quietly with laughter again, and says, “Very well,” then turns and walks back into the ocean, just starts walking with absolutely no resistance.

 

Percy turns to look at Nico, his gaze asking if he’s ready, but Nico isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at their clasped hands, stretching his fingers in Percy’s viselike grip, so Percy just starts walking, and Nico has to follow, and when they hit the water and Percy tries to pull him through, Nico’s skin hits the cold ocean and he yelps.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

“This,” says Nico, quietly, as if he is telling Percy a well-kept secret, “Is really weird.”

 

Percy supposes it is. He certainly thought it was weird when he first found out he could do this to the water – bend it around him so he never got wet - but he’s been doing it for a long time and the novelty has sort of worn off. Nico, however, is experiencing the whole thing as a beginner, his eyes flashing everywhere, his free hand twitching like he wants to reach out and touch the fish that swim by.

 

“The being underwater part, the fact that this is how we’re getting to Hawaii, or what?” Percy nudges his shoulder against Nico’s, tries to lighten him up because he’s tense in Percy’s hold, but the motion just makes Nico jump a little like a cat that just got it’s tail pulled.

 

“Well,” he goes, watching a school of fish fly over head of them. “Both, I guess.” Then he looks at Percy, like something just hit him, looking sort of shocked and sort of confused, and Percy thinks for a second that the good thing about Nico is that he’s really shit at hiding how he feels, that his face is so honest. “Wait, we’re not walking to Hawaii, are we? Percy, the distance between Hawaii to L.A. is pretty much—“

 

“You think,” interrupts Asterion, his voice booming just to remind them he can hear them, several paces in front of them. “I would lead you all the way to the islands on foot?”

 

The party stops, Asterion turning his head from side to side like he’s looking for something, before finally looking down a hazardous trench and saying, “Ah.” He turns to the boys, giving a small, sort of smug smile before he motions to the trench.

 

“This is your vessel, son of Poseidon,” he says, sounding proud and regal, and Percy starts to inquire what he means but then the ground is sort of shaking and the dust that settles at the bottom of the ocean begins to stir and rise from the trench.

 

Nico and Percy, ever used to surprises, immediately are on edge, somehow finding it within them to get into fighting position while holding hands, which Asterion quietly chuckles at, but no one’s looking at him become something huge and monstrous is coming out of an equally large trench.

 

Asterion waves at them, as if to say, _there’s no need for that_ , as the ground quakes and Percy and Nico slowly settle down. After a moment, they begin to tilt their head simultaneously, watching as this something comes out from the trench and—and— _is that a boat?_

 

“Yes,” says Asterion, because apparently one (or both) of them had said that part out loud. “A ferry, to be exact.”

 

The boat is obviously a sort of passenger ship, like something tourists get on to sight-see on, and it occurs to Percy that’s probably what it did before Asterion snatched it and hid in the bottom of a trench. It’s this wide boat, with a thick base and very little deck space, but Percy doesn’t really get a good look of it with all the water dusty swishing about. He does a good job of keeping he and Nico dry and clean from it, though.

 

Asterion half-turns to them, holding out his hand. He’s muscular like Poseidon, and definitely looks more God than Naiad, but the striking part about him is the tattoo on his back – the jaws of a shark covering every inch of skin. He has a shaved head and a square jaw, and Percy truly understands how large his hand is when Asterion is thrusting it out to him.

 

“The bird,” he says, all expectant, and it takes Percy a minute before he realizes he’s talking about the phoenix around his neck. He fumbles at trying to untangle the necklace and hands it to the River God with a curious look because ever since he got the damn thing he’s been thinking, what can they possibly use this for?

 

But Asterion holds it up, shaking it in Percy’s face for a minute before explaining to them, “Our fuel. With this, we will speed across the waters. Very handy for you to have run into one.”

 

Percy scoffs – because, yeah, imagine that, hmm.

 

So they board the ship - the ferry - and Asterion disappears into the cabin room, and Percy thinks that he probably shouldn’t follow him because he doesn’t want to hover, so he just turns to Nico, who still is sort of looking like he can’t quite grasp what’s going on around him. He pursing his lips, looking around, and eventually he looks up at Percy and finally says, “I left my shoes in the car.”

 

The Ferry begins to vibrate, rising further out of the ocean and literally warming up with the power of the trapped Phoenix, and Percy just shrugs and smiles. “We’ll get you some flip-flops when we get there.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

The ride takes, gods, way too long. Four hours on the boat and Percy and Nico have begun to lose their minds a little bit, because at least in the car they could play punch buggy. Plus, they miss Jeff.

 

And it’s like going on one of those tiny boats that speed across the water, except it’s huge and Asterion advises them to stay away from the railing. Percy just sort of walks around Nico, since he quickly finds he doesn’t like being on boats, finding things to talk about (“One time Clarisse caught an arrow zipping past like, mid-flight. Nearly took the skin off, it was so nasty.”), tales to tell (“Paris of Troy was a real chatterbox, lemme tell you. I know, I was surprised too!”), and heated topics to discuss, (“Yeah, but I’m just saying. I’m just saying – if I _had_ to dye my hair I’d dye it blue. Like, gun to my head, the answer would be blue. Cerulean.”) as the hours tick by.

 

Except it’s a little different than being in the car, because in the car there was this unspoken thing that they didn’t have to keep talking, that they could just be quiet and let Percy drive or let Nico play with the radio for a few hours. Here, it’s like, if there’s a lull in the conversation, it gets awkward. Percy wonders if he’s just imagining it, but sitting on the bench of the boat, they glance at each other, and then glance away, and it’s like, _dammit_ , when did things get awkward?

 

And Percy sort of feels cheated because he liked that nothing could be awkward with Nico. He liked the relationship they had built in that truck, and he’s mad because – because what if he was right and Nico really won’t be his best friend tomorrow?

 

Nico goes, “What’re you talking about?” sort of shrilly, and Percy realizes he said that part out loud and he curses under his breath.

 

“It’s just!” Percy starts, then stops, not really looking forward to this conversation. He sighs, his shoulders heaving, and watches the boat speed across the Pacific.

 

He wants to talk to Nico about dead people he’s met. About adventure’s he’s had – wants to hear about Mythomagic strategies and other stupid stuff. Not this… feelings junk.

 

“I liked it,” he said, half like he’s embarrassed, as he shrugs away from Nico. “Being in the car with you. You, Me, ‘n Jeff.  It was nice. It was kinda weird because, like—where did it even come from? But it was there, and now—“

 

“Percy,” Nico interjects, looking serious but sort of confused. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Percy purses his lips together. _It’s just Nico,_ he reminds himself.

 

“I don’t know,” he starts, looking away again. He’s never been self-conscious, not really, and especially not around Nico, but it suddenly occurs to him that there’s a possibility he’s gotten all super excited to buy Best Friend bracelets with Nico and Nico didn’t think half as much of it. It makes his stomach lurch, but also makes him kinda mad. “It wasn’t awkward, in the car, when we were driving. It was just easy and nice. And it came outta no where, I had no idea I could feel that way about you—but now—I guess, I guess I’m just mad, because. Maybe it was stupid, you know?”

 

Nico looks flushed, like he had sitting on the side of the truck with his legs on either side of Percy, who cannot for the life of him figure out what the look on Nico’s face even means. He looks like a strange cross between angry and embarrassed and mystified, and then it’s like a slow, dawning realization begins to reveal itself to him.

 

Percy expects him to tell him he’s weird, or tell him he gets it, and that Percy doesn’t have to worry about it, but he doesn’t do any of those things. He just sort of gapes at Percy, and then at the water, and then at the ground, and then he purses his lips tight and nods quick and quiet, and looks up.

 

And he does the thing—the thing where he looks up through his eyelashes, stark against the paleness of his cheeks, and Percy kind of twitches. He gives Nico this puzzled look, because he’s waiting to see what Nico will do or say, but Nico looks away from him, looking rattled, shaken, and shy.

 

“You—“ he starts, and then stops. He’s looking at the waters now, watching it zip by like he had watched trees pass in the car. “Gods, you’re—you’re _impossible_.”

 

“What?” Goes Percy, suddenly up and at attention. He scoots closer to Nico, ready to grill him, ask him just what he means by that, but Nico looks away like he can’t bear for their eyes to meet and Percy stills. He starts wracking his brain for things he could’ve said to upset him, and thinks, for a second, that this moment is a lot like when Annabeth had been kissing him and then told him to stop and his first thought is _no no no that can’t happen with Nico, not Nico, too_.

 

Nico eventually turns back to look at him, and he looks grave and deathly – too much like the boy he was to Percy before this quest, not enough like the boy Percy had driven with the past few days. He flicks his eyes down, then up, looking Percy over, before fixing him with a look that’s half angry, and half sorry, half _please don’t be mad at me_.

 

He looks up at Percy, who is taller than him, even when they sit, and they hold the stare, unmoving and both trying to puzzle out the scene together, before Nico begins to shift, to face him fully again.

 

And this whole trip, he has never looked at Percy like this, like a good friend has died, or like Nico needs to ask him for something he’s slightly ashamed of, but Percy finds himself getting closer to the other boy, prompting him, _what, why, why am I impossible, what have I done, tell me what you want me to be, and I’ll be it._

 

Nico nearly shies away from him when he does, but then he straightens up and follows the motion, and suddenly it all clicks for Percy, suddenly he realizes what that look means, and maybe his face says that to Nico, or maybe he says something stupid out loud again, but he figures he did something, and he did it right, because Nico’s hand, always too big for his bony wrist, places itself on the front of Percy’s shoulder and he leans further into the son of Poseidon, and they kiss.

 

Again, Percy thinks of the boy on Apollo’s bus, hurriedly explaining that he _loved_ the Poseidon card. Asking if Percy would want to play with him some time, and it all finally snaps into the right position, and Percy is cupping the side of Nico’s cold, sharp face and tilting his head to return the kiss.

 

He wonders if Nico has ever kissed before, because his thin, chapped lips are still, stiff, even, as Percy attempts to bring back the boy that had smiled when Percy called him his best friend. He shifts closer, the slightest bit, to place his other hand on Nico’s side, but immediately regrets it, as Nico jumps back at that, startled. He gulps hard, looking to either side hurriedly like there might be some excuse to lurch unto, but there is none, and if there was one, Percy wouldn’t let him have it. He follows Nico, kissing just the corner of his mouth, and just barely tasting the gasp Nico gives.

 

Nico is stupid. He’s ridiculously humble, selfless in an irresponsible way, self-sacrificing to a fault, and Percy thinks he is just precious. He wants nothing more than to put this beautiful boy on a pedestal and take orders from him, proclaim that Nico will be his hero and Percy will just enjoy the ride for what Nico gives him. He nudges Nico’s cheek with his nose, and tries to explain this by way of kissing his mouth several times, until Nico figures out how to breathe between kisses.

 

And the kisses are all slow and soft but quick and chaste, all Percy trying to impart some of his warmth to Nico, trying to explain that Nico could do anything and Percy would always forgive him, always protect him.

 

Somewhere between these kisses, Nico remembers his hands, and his fingers begin searching for Percy’s, who answers in kind by threading their fingers together and pulling him closer, and there, in the middle of the Pacific, Percy teaches Hades’s son how to kiss, successfully forgetting everything else about his whole life.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

It’s around 5 p.m. when they finally catch sight of the islands of Hawaii, but it takes Percy a while to notice it because he doesn’t see anything but Nico’s soft hair and pink lips for roughly four straight hours.

 

They are four hours filled with several looks that mean, _we should put words to what we are doing,_ and a few more looks that mean, _nah_. They don’t bother. Instead, Nico sits and presses as close as he can to Percy before he says _fuck it_ and situates himself into Percy’s lap, and Percy pulls Nico’s hair free of it’s ponytail and whispers into his mouth that he thinks his hair up like this is just adorable.

 

He wants to get back to the giggling sort of laugh Nico gives when Percy kisses the side of his jaw, and the way his bony little arms feel around Percy’s neck, but neither of them are eager to be all over each other when Asterion resurfaces.

 

Percy can only hope he doesn’t _look_ like a boy who’d spent four hours kissing because he doesn’t want to know what Asterion will say to that. Thankfully, when Asterion joins them, they aren’t tied at the tongues, but instead are leaning over the railing and watching the islands approach them quickly, so they don’t look too conspicuous, and Percy is a gentleman so it isn’t like he’s left a bunch of hickeys on Nico. He’d only left one.

 

Asterion joins them, regarding the islands like he’s proud of them, and Percy wonders if they’re his favorite place or something because he looks at them like they’re home, but he says nothing, and instead waits for the River God to speak. When he does, it’s after a long sigh, and he looks at Nico first, instead of Percy.

 

The Son of Death shifts under Asterion’s stare, and Percy can just see that Nico’s worried Asterion is gonna say something like, “So, did you enjoy yourself?” Thankfully, Asterion doesn’t seem to be privy to their last few hours, or if he is, he isn’t interested in mentioning it. He looks them both over and then motions to the islands.

 

“The child is in the capital,” he says pointing at each individual island in the cluster. “Honolulu, they call it. I can take you to the docks, but you’ll have to find him on your own.”

 

“Not a problem,” says Nico, sounding adorably confident. “I can sense them from here. We should be able to sniff them out before nightfall.”

 

“Good,” says Asterion, casual as he turns around. “Because at Nightfall I will depart again.”

 

Percy’s eyebrows draw down quickly at that, his mind racing to do the math and tell him, uh, that’s like, three hours tops.

 

“Mister, ah, Asterion?” He tries, and resists the urge to shrink away when the River God looks at him over his shoulder as if to say, _this better be good_. “Is that… necessary? I mean, Nico’s good, but he might not be that good—“

 

“Hey,” interjects Nico, before Asterion stops the both of them with “Well, he’ll need to be. I have other matters to attend to. You’re lucky I’d take a whole day to take you here at all. Be back by nightfall, or enjoy your vacation on the islands until some _other_ River God can help you.”

 

Percy guesses he can’t argue with that, and even if he wanted to, Asterion is already striding away, each step against the boat and back into his cabin purposeful and strong, so Percy lets him go. He guesses he’ll count his blessings and just thank the gods above that these naiads are as helpful to him as they have been, but when he looks at Nico, he’s making a grumpy face.

 

Nico watches the cabin for a long moment, counting the steps Asterion takes before he looks back unto the ocean and whispers, quiet as Percy’s ever heard him, “ _jerk”_ , and Percy laughs the rest of the ride to Honolulu.

 

They do eventually hit the docks, and Percy must say, Hawaii is beautiful. It’s all sun and beaches and happy people and he feels, sort of strangely, at home. He turns, to explain the feeling to Nico, but he’s already off, saying, “This way.”

 

“Geez,” goes Percy, following him. “Get right down to business, don’t you?”

 

Nico is funny from this angle, without his jacket, white as bones and wearing Percy’s socks. He walks with his shoulders back, with the sort of purpose his father would carry, and his hair bounces every so slightly with each firm step. He doesn’t answer Percy, just starts weaving into the hustle and bustle of the island’s inhabitants.

 

He’s so different, here in front of Percy, all grave matters and serious business, than he was curling into Percy’s touches. But Percy just smiles at his back, because he knows Nico is just like that. He can be about eighteen different things at once, and Percy will probably think each side is as adorable as the other – and Nico in his socks is pretty fucking adorable.

 

They go around for about an hour before Nico realizes he wants the beach, it’s the beach he’s looking for, and he groans, because, “I’m so fucking sick of _water_ ,” and they hit the bus to the beach, their first break from being on their feet from over an hour, which they welcome with open arms.

 

There board the bus, compacted tightly between the islanders, and they all regard Nico strangely because he sticks out like a sore thumb, stark bone-white against the tan of the Hawaiians, and Percy nudges him with his elbow to tease him about that as the bus takes off.

 

The islanders chatter around them to each other, a cheery people, as Nico avoids looking them in the eye. Percy smiles at the other bus riders when they nod at him, totally in his element, but is yanked back to Nico when the other boy threads their fingers together.

 

Percy doesn’t jump, doesn’t pull away, only looks down at their hands, at Nico, who is looking away, and squeezes. Nico sort of shifts on his feet at that, glancing at Percy and then looking away again and—Gods, Percy is still a little tipsy off him, if he’s honest. With his mouth closed, he still tastes the shyness of Nico’s kisses, and he can’t stop himself when he leans down and presses an obnoxious kiss to Nico’s temple.

 

Nico startles at that, shoving Percy away but keeping their hands locked together. He goes, “ _Percy_!” with this whine in his voice, and then stares pointedly out the window and mumbles, “Don’t _do_ that.”

 

And Percy just laughs, let’s himself have the moment, really sinks into the comfortableness of it, of how much sense it makes to be in Hawaii with Nico, and goes, “Sorry.”

 

Someone shifts behind them, but they make no move to turn and see until they hear a strangely familiar voice chuckle out, “Children these days.”

 

Percy thinks, _No. No, that’s impossible_. Who he thinks is behind him could not possibly be behind him. But then he turns around, and there is the broad, bright and beardy Poseidon, and he thinks he feels Nico disintegrate at the sight of him.

 

And he never thought he’d be here – in many ways, now that he thinks about it. In Hawaii; In a situation where he has to come out to a parent (especially his godparent); In a bus with Poseidon, who wears a sunhat and a Hawaiian shirt and is reading the paper. He thinks he must look at least a little shocked, a stark comparison to Nico beside him, who yanks his hand away from Percy’s and goes beat red, and then, promptly, bone white.

 

“Posei— _My Lord_ ,” he sputters, clearing his throat and trying to appear presentable. He looks down, smoothing his shirt down and cursing Percy’s socks on his feet, before continuing, “How—We’re so—Hello!”

 

Poseidon, of course, laughs loudly, closing his paper and scooting over, patting down so Nico and Percy can join him. “Hello,” he says, looking straight at Nico, nodding, and chuckling when Nico nods hard and then looks away pointedly, coughing into his fist. “And hello,” he says to Percy. “You’ve done well to get here in time, my son. I trust the trip was fun?”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Percy waves at the air, smiling as he sits down next to his father and all but forgetting Nico, who is a little preoccupied with coughing up a lung into his bony hand. “Yeah, it was really fun! Let’s see, we met some cool rivers, battled a Phoenix – well, that was mostly Nico, but, I helped.”

 

Poseidon slaps a hand unto Percy’s back, smiling at the two boys and shaking his head, like they are such a riot, he can’t ever quite believe they’re real, which seems to be a reaction they’ve gotten a lot these last few days. “A child of mine would have perished against a creature like that,” he says. “Be glad your friend was with you.”

 

“It was nothing,” mumbles Nico, but Percy hardly hears him, so he knows Poseidon doesn’t. He elbows him, turns around and goes, “Would you quit?” before turning back to his father.

 

Poseidon seems to be on the same page as his naiads are, because he looks between Nico and Percy like they are his favorite form of entertainment, a big, booming smile on his face. They hold his stare for a while, Nico somewhat awkwardly, before the Sea King waves at them and goes, “Well! I thought that I’d put you through enough, cleaning up my mess and everything, and decided to come and help you through the ends of this quest. Will you accept my assistance?”

 

Percy shrugs a, “Sure,” the same time Nico sort of lurches forward to exclaim, “Yes!” and Poseidon begins laughing at them all over again, in a way that makes you think this is why they call him the earth-shaker.

 

“It’s just that,” Nico starts, his hands motioning wildly while he talks. “I have no idea what I could even say to whoever has this kid. Do I—Do I buy them? Do I just say pretty please?” He shrugs, looking away like he’s embarrassed, in his rolled-up pants and dirty socks. “So I’m… gracious to accept your help. Sir.”

 

Percy rolls his eyes, and when he looks back to Poseidon, his father looks confused. His bushy eyebrows are pulled down considerably and his lips are pressed tight together in thought.

 

“Always with the formality,” he mumbles, like the God of the Sea can even be offended. “I’m not going to hurt you, nephew.”

 

He doesn’t say anything more, and when Percy turns his head back to Nico, he sees the son of death with his weird look on his face, half embarrassed, half surprised, but all like he wants to sing a whole entire song about how sorry he is, so Percy just helps the poor guy out and cuts in.

 

“So, uh,” he goes, a bit louder than necessary so Nico gets the cue to cool it. “How’re you gonna help us, then? Do you know how to get them?”

 

“Well, firstly,” says Poseidon, looking out the window, like he’s waiting for his stop. “They’re a her. And secondly, yes, Nico, I just asked nicely.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Poseidon pays for their bus fare by way of waving his hand at the driver, who seems gracious to accept this form of payment and says something cheery in a language Percy doesn’t understand. They are dropped off at a sort of boardwalk, and again, Percy gets absolutely no time to look around and enjoy the beautiful Hawaiian scenery before Poseidon and Nico are off in the same direction and Percy groans that he can’t stop for one second but follows after them quick enough.

 

“Auoli and Luana are Kaimaue’s parents,” Poseidon explains, as he throws a handful of drachmas into the guitar case of a musician on the road. “They took the child in after she passed and have been extremely pleasant about transferring her into my care.” He makes a face crossed between pensive and almost saddened as they walk past children biking across the boardwalk and couples making their way towards the beach. “They agreed Kaimaue wasn’t… ready for a child. They grieve for her – and I could not possibly ask them to handle my responsibility on top of that grief.”

 

It’s hard, sometimes, for Percy especially, to understand that the gods are not necessarily human, but have all too human feelings. While they at once can not be held to mortal consequences, you also can’t expect them to breeze through their existence without sorrow and regret. And Poseidon is especially tricky for Percy, because to his knowledge, no other demigod has ever been explicitly called the favorite. It’s hard for Percy to draw the line between Father and Lord, now especially, as he so openly regrets the birth of his new daughter.

 

Percy wonders if he was a regret, some years ago. But he figures now isn’t the time for that.

 

“Although,” Poseidon continues, stroking his beard. “She’d be the first child to hail from these islands. Perhaps she would be safe.”

 

“Not likely,” mumbles Nico, briskly walking forward with that strong diplomatic swing of his shoulders in each step. “She’d be safe for a while, but when the monsters came – and they _would_ come – it would be hard to get to her in time, her being so far out of the way from camp.”

 

Percy and Poseidon collectively consider Nico with a sort of impressed look, proud that he’s finally found his voice in regard to the Sea King. There is a silence as they marvel at him fondly, before Nico catches the silence, and then catches the tone of his words and glances at Poseidon only to glance away just as fast as he adds, “Sir.”

 

But Poseidon only booms his laugh, and Percy wonders why the Naiads and Watery Folk seem to be so fond of Nico – before his four hours on the ferry with Nico comes smacking into him like a brick wall and he figures he shouldn’t pretend that Nico doesn’t have the same effect on him.

 

“You’re quite right,” The Sea God bellows, nodding to a juggler on the side of the pavement. “This is why I’ve set up this appointment. She’ll need to be at camp someday. She’ll need you, Percy.”

 

Percy is pulled out of his thoughts at that, and jumps. “Oh,” he says, intelligently. “Yeah.” Because for the first time during this trip it hits him that he’ll have a sibling at the end of this road. And she’ll be little when they meet her, but eventually, under Percy’s watch, she will grow into a strong demigod, and she will go on quests and make her own friends and fight and cry and lose and win.

 

Above anything, Percy feels pressured, because he’s worried that he’ll fuck up and be a shit brother, or something like that. And then, immediately after that, is the feeling that man, he’s getting old.

 

They walk in relative silence after that, Poseidon leading the way but Nico still oddly concentrated – like he’s following Poseidon, but he’s also following his instincts, and it’s nice to see this smug look of pride on his face when Poseidon goes in the same direction his own demigod tracking abilities would have had him go.

 

It’s as if his father senses the sudden uneasiness that washes over Percy, because he stops talking and just strides on, less like Percy’s dad and more like Asterion, leading them through the waters. And maybe Percy’s being stupid but – it’s just all of a sudden crashing down on him, the sheer responsibility of taking care of his new sister (though, he thinks, somewhat bitterly to his father, she’ll be more like his daughter, since Poseidon isn’t going to go to any science fairs or school concerts). When Poseidon had issued him this quest, he had been excited and easy-going and now that he’s this close to her – can feel her, can feel her calling to him in a way that makes him think he doesn’t even need Nico or his father to lead him to her – he’s, well, he’s getting cold feet, that’s all he can call it.

 

They’re walking through a cluster of houses when Poseidon says something in the Hawaiian tongue Percy doesn’t catch, so he looks up and goes, “Huh?” and Poseidon smiles warmly at him, father again as he fixes his favorite son with a downright loving look.

 

“Ali’ikai,” he says, slower, as he walks up set of stairs leading to a house’s front door, half on the steps while Percy stays in the half-sand, half-pavement. “Her name.”

 

Percy pulls his eyebrows down as Poseidon knocks on the door. Beside him, Nico is straightening himself and making sure he looks presentable, and he can vaguely hear the ocean hit the sand and he think he can smell hot dogs cooking somewhere – but it’s all drowned out by this strange bitterness that is overtaking him. For the first time in a long time, he’s angry with Poseidon. He feels cheated more than anything, and he doesn’t understand why he wasn’t angry before this – but Percy knows his social graces and thinks that favorite son or not, he will never be able to express this feeling to Poseidon, even if they were alone in his cabin and no one could hear.

 

“Percy,” says Nico, feather-soft from halfway up the stairs, and Percy looks up. He looks concerned, but flicks his head inside the door and Percy realizes they have already been greeted and led inside.

 

He goes, “oh,” and then, as he marches to follow, “Oh, yeah. Sorry, just kinda—you know I just—“

 

“It’s OK,” says Nico, awkwardly placing his hand on Percy’s elbow, but once it’s there, it’s not awkward at all, as he rubs at Percy’s sun kissed skin and offers him this ghost of a smile, like he’s out of smiles and these are all he’s got right now. “Kind of a dick move, you’re right.”

 

And Percy wants to laugh, because of course Nico understands how he feels. Of course Nico _knows_ , of course he sees. He wants to tell Nico he thinks that’s amazing without saying anything, so he smiles and feels the tension leave his shoulders the slightest bit, and he thinks Nico gets it, thinks he succeeded, because Nico punches him on the elbow and motions for Percy to follow him inside.

 

The house is tiny, but it feels like something Percy could come to love real fast. There are old, grey photos in dainty bronze frames covering every surface, a chandelier made of seashells above the table in the main room. After he openly marvels at the home, he smiles at the old, wrinkly Hawaiian couple and tries to tell them with his bright eyes and flashy grin he digs their home, but then they start speaking directly to him in a language he doesn’t understand.

 

Poseidon jumps to the rescue, placing his hands on Percy’s shoulders and hopefully explaining him away as his son that only speaks English, and then he waves to Nico, not far behind. The pair can only nod and agree and hope it’s alright that they can just sit there while the whole affair is being worked out.

 

After a few quick sentences thrown back and forth and Poseidon laughing with the nice older couple, he finally turns back to Percy, his hand motion to an archway with no door. “She’s in there,” he says, sort of slowly, like he wants to give Percy a minute to sink it all in. “Why don’t you go say hello?”

 

Percy’s stomach lurches, but he nods, and hazards a look at Nico, who looks graver than usual, and Percy can’t figure out why. He nods too, hard, when Poseidon poses the question to him, but it’s like he wants to be ready – like he’s prepared to fight a monster with his bare hands if it bursts through the window, _like_ _he expects that to happen_.

 

But Percy can only guess it’s a sister thing (a sister thing he’ll have to get used to in time), as he bows his head and waves at the couple and goes, like they can understand him, “Thanks,” for reasons he doesn’t quite comprehend. Nico elbows him in good fun, making fun of him as they cross into the room and Percy can not remember being this nervous in such a long time, it’s almost funny.

 

The crib is, like the rest of the things in the home, old and wooden. It’s situated in what Percy can only guess is a sort of den, because there’s a TV on mute and an unlit fireplace to the right of the doorway when he comes in. There’s a couch that can only be described as very Old People, and there’s a radio playing a lilting Hawaiian tune with a ukulele and a woman’s sweet, slow voice.

 

And then there’s the quiet whine of a baby who wants attention, and it’s like Percy’s whole word clicks into color for the first time.

 

He forgets Nico is even there with him when he slowly approaches the crib, and he has to take a deep breath before he lets himself peer into it to see Ali’ikai and all her wiggling glory.

 

And when he finally sees her – sees her numbing at her own little finger and looking up at Percy, so curiously, but also so trusting and curious and so oddly perfect, it’s like he completely forgets where he is, why he’s here, that he’s mad at Poseidon, about the phoenix in the desert, about the underwater ferry – all of it. All that matters is his little sister.

 

“Hey,” he says, timidly, as he reaches in and skirts his finger over her tiny arm. He feels himself bite his lip, just a little, like he’s trying to suppress all the things he wants to say to her and all the high-pitched noises he wants to coo at her. “Hey there, cute stuff. Look at you, haha. Nico, c’mere.”

 

When Nico doesn’t appear by his side in a second (or ten minutes, he’s not sure), he looks back, and sees that the son of death is still sort of standing idly just outside the doorway, shifting awkwardly on his feet and trying to look everywhere at once. He finally looks at Percy like he’s unsure if him actually being a part of this moment is allowed, but Percy waves him over again and he slowly starts to tiptoe to Ali’ikai’s crib.

 

“I don’t need to,” Nico starts to say, but he trails off when Percy looks away from him and goes to back to the baby. Percy doesn’t know what he doesn’t need to, but it’s obvious from the way that he shifts closer to Percy to get closer to his sister that Nico has quickly succumbed to Ali’ikai’s spell. He glances over at the shorter boy and drinks up how close he is, how warm he feels against Percy’s side, how his hands settle on the edges of her crib so he can lean forward a little and truly behold her.

 

In response, she giggles, and the boys jump back, look at each other, and return the motion with lower tones of laughter, gentle and like they don’t want to scare her off.

 

“A lee,” Percy tries, letting his sister take his finger in her impossibly tiny hands. “A-Lee-a-kai, is that it? Ali’ikai? Alee—How about Ali? Don’t wanna give you a name no one can pronounce. Cuz that’s gonna be a pain in the butt when the teachers never know how to pronounce your name.”

 

Nico huffs a quiet chuckle at that, playing with the spinning mobile above Ali’s crib, set fittingly with stuffed dolphins and seals and sea creatures. For a long while, he just sort stays like that, watching the moment like an outsider looking in while Percy marvels at Ali’s wispy black hair and big green eyes and wormy little fingers. He giggles at her, tickling her tiny tummy when she grabs at his calloused hand and mirroring her big toothy grin with a wide smile of his own.

 

He looks up at Nico through his eyelashes, his head tilted down towards his sister when he does, and Nico is smiling languidly at the two of them. It takes him a minute to realize Percy’s acknowledged him and he sort of startles when the attention sinks in, clearing his throat softly. “She, uh,” he starts, a little awkward still. “Looks like you. Well—“ he makes a vague hand motion towards the door almost dismissively, and continues, “You both look _exactly_ like Poseidon, which is just weird. I mean, it’s bad enough that we have to deal with your obnoxious laugh at camp, I can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like with two of you yucking it up and—“

 

Percy grabs him by the hand, pulling him a little closer, then raising it to kiss the part of his hand where his wrist meets his palm, before threading their fingers together. Nico stares at him with his wide eyes and open mouth, a picture of a fish out of water while Percy places his hand above his sister’s face, letting her grab at it.

 

“You haven’t said hello,” he whispers, watching as Ali’ikai gurgles at the intrusion into her crib. She grabs hold of one bony fingers and Nico almost pulls back, but Percy slides his palm on top of his hand and fits his fingers between the gaps of Nico’s, and he slowly begins to settle down.

 

He can feel Nico, all tense and awkward, but no one can be anything but awe-struck with Ali’ikai’s big green eyes blinking up at them. He places his free hand on Nico’s waist, bringing him close against Percy’s side while Nico slowly lets the tension ease out of him by way of grazing the fabric of Ali’s orange dress with his forefinger.

 

“Heya,” he breathes, so quiet Percy can hardly hear it.

 

In response, Ali’ikai squeals a laugh and Nico’s eyes widen, and he jumps back a little, but only hits Percy’s embrace and thus immediately relaxes. “Woah,” He goes, his eyebrows raising as she yanks his finger down with all her strength. “OK, uh. You can have that, I guess. I mean, I’ve got nine more. Why not?”

 

Percy presses a kiss against the back of Nico’s neck, and all the bitterness from before just leaves him, as he thinks that if this is the turn his life is going to take – into adulthood, into brotherhood - and with Nico, then he is all sorts of OK with that. Thanks his lucky stars, in fact.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

One Ali’ikai comes with a stroller (“Aww!” Percy coos), a diaper bag (“Thank the _gods_ ,” Nico whispers), a plush shark (“Look,” goes Percy, “It’s Uncle Asterion!”), a little bottle decorated in waves (“OK,” admits Nico, after some prodding, “That’s. That’s pretty cute.”), a bag of clothes (“How does a foot even fit inside this thing – this is for Barbie dolls!”), and the knowledge that her birthday is December 11th, she’s extremely energetic, she likes to ‘sing’ along with the radio, and that she is not above hair pulling to get one’s attention, as Nico learns the hard way.

 

Percy and Nico are called back into the main room sometime into their play date with Ali, and Poseidon relays these facts and more to them as Luana piles all of the baby’s things onto them. As Ali’ikai is secure in Percy’s arms when this happens, this leaves Nico to hold all of her things, and he valiantly tries to get them all into position on the stroller, nodding diligently as Poseidon translates that “Ali’ikai can be feisty, and is very friendly and outgoing, and she has a bit of a sweet tooth,” and so on, and so forth.

 

Nico nods assiduously all through out, though Percy is mostly just fixated on his sister’s itty bitty precious widdle fingers, yes he is! While Nico covers the technical things, he loses himself to Ali’s puffy little lips and orange-white dress with the frills underneath, and the fresh baby smell of her soft little head – he just completely forgets where he even is, he doesn’t even mind that Poseidon and Ali’s grandparents are talking fast and cheerful in a tongue he doesn’t understand while Nico grumbles about trying to fit her diaper bag into her stroller. He all but forgets until he’s being forced to shake hands and set off.

 

Luana and Auoli definitely love Ali’ikai, this much is evident in the way that they play with her fingers and kiss her soft cheeks (Luana even cries, though she does her best to hide it with a cough into her fist), but the way that they come towards her, like they’re having second thoughts about letting her go, makes Percy tighten his grip on her. He becomes wary and on guard, Riptide heavy in his pocket like he might need to fight them for his sister.

 

He reminds himself to cool the sensation building up inside him, chants that there is no pressing danger and that he owes the old couple their goodbyes. Though he knows they don’t understand him, he soothes Ali’ikai’s whines at all the commotion and says, “There’s nowhere safer she could be than with me.”

 

The air is heavy after that, Luana and Auoli clearly puzzled but smiling softly anyway. It seems his tone carried what needed to be said, successfully breaking the language barrier, and Poseidon loosely translates that Percy will keep their granddaughter safe as Nico loads up the stroller and heads back outside.

 

Percy takes a peak at his sister, clearly distressed at being relocated _again_ , and notices that when she begins to whine too much, all it takes is a passing glance from their father to quiet her. He rocks her back and forth, bouncing her like he’s an old pro at this whole baby game, but nothing makes her stop squirming like a wave of Poseidon’s hands, and he takes note of this while Nico attempts to communicate to Luana that Ali’ikai will be in good hands, not to worry (which is sort of sweet, how he looks so earnest, trying to settle the old couple).

 

Eventually, though, it is time to take the journey back home, and Poseidon shakes their hands and smiles warmly at them. They hold the child one more time and kiss her cheeks at the same time before strapping her into her stroller and waving the party off. They linger on the steps as Nico begins to push the stroller off towards their destination, but eventually they scurry back inside like it would hurt too much to watch their granddaughter disappear away from them, forever.

 

It’s Percy who breaks the silence as they walk on, with a timid, “Are you sure we did the right thing?”

 

Poseidon looks vaguely like he isn’t so sure about that one himself, but thankfully Nico jumps in with a snort and a, “Those guys don’t have much longer anyway. Death is strong on gramps – they’d maybe make it to her going to middle school if they were lucky.”

 

Percy makes a face, because he forgot for a second that Nico just says things like that, while Poseidon chuckles deeply. They stay in relative silence after that until the Sea King leads them to the bus stop, then turns to them.

 

“You both have done well to make it this far,” He says, hands on either of their shoulders like they’re both his sons. “But there is danger yet ahead. Hades may be uninterested in Ali’ikai now, but I can’t say the same for the other monsters in the world.” He pauses, patting Nico for good measure and adding, like he did in their Iris Call, “No offense.”

 

And again, Nico just shakes his head, a swooping motion from side to side, hands raised up like Poseidon doesn’t have to tell him.

 

“But I have my own matters to attend to,” Poseidon continues, straightening up, and suddenly he’s the God of the Sea again, purposeful and strong. “The worst is behind you – but do be careful. And don’t be afraid to stop by a river if you need help. I hear they’re all quite fond of you two.”

 

That sounds suspiciously like a dad teasing you about your boyfriend, Percy can’t help but think, but he never gets the chance to tell him how embarrassing he is, because he’s ruffling he and Nico’s hair and leaning down to give Ali’ikai a gentle kiss before he can.

 

“Goodbye, my sweet,” he says, gentle as the low tide. “And be strong.”

 

And, a little less theatrical than the nymphs had been, Poseidon just starts walking till he’s out of sight. Percy can only guess he will walk till he reaches the beach and sink into the ocean in front of everyone until they’re all gathered round trying to figure out if they were just seeing things or not – because the Gods have a flare for dramatics that sometimes seeps into their children.

 

They watch him leave like he is an old friend but they don’t wave. They just watch. Eventually, Ali’ikai gets bored with watching and squeals for no real reason, but she doesn’t need one, because one vague motion from her general direction is enough to stop Nico and Percy in their tracks.

 

Nico’s a little more serious about checking what’s wrong compared to Percy, who checks to see that she isn’t bleeding and affectionately ruffles her hair as praise for being alright. Nico kneels down and looks at her, and it’s sort of funny how quick his face goes from war torn soldier taking orders from Poseidon to Caring Cousin Nico (Uncle? He’s not Ali’s uncle, but Percy’s feeling Uncle) as he smooths the fabric of her dress down and murmurs all low and sweet inquiries, like she can understand him when he sort of baby-talks/asks her if she’s okay, is there anything she wants? Does she wanna be held?

 

And Percy—Percy can’t help it. He snickers. He could’ve left it at that, too, just a quick quiet chuckle behind his lips, but then Nico looks up like he does, from under his lashes, and it really shouldn’t be pretty or endearing, that his hair is more tousled than usual from the salt of the sea and the ponytail he had tied it in, and that he is as white as a bone, that Percy’s list of worries go _get Ali’ikai to the boat_ , and then immediately skip to _get Nico out of the blistering heat before he turns into a tomato_ , that he smells like an Older Couple’s house and that he has baby powder spilled on one knee from him trying to fit the container in the diaper bag so eloquently thrown over his shoulder. It’s not very Nico, to be covered in baby powder and to be brandishing the diaper bag like he can pull a weapon from it and he’s not afraid to use it, but then, Percy thinks, as Nico gives him a mean look for snickering at him, maybe it is.

 

Because Nico never does anything by any rules and Percy should just stop trying to guess where he’ll move on this chessboard because to complete the metaphor, Nico either doesn’t know how to play chess and is an excellent actor, or invented the game because Percy can never keep up.

 

“What?” Nico hisses, sounding mean and angry and not like how a person sounds when they’re really close to a baby, but Ali doesn’t seem to mind. She reaches out tentatively like she doesn’t wanna be caught and starts threading her wormy little fingers through Nico’s hair without him noticing, and Percy throws his head back and just _howls_ with laughter.

 

“You look,” he says, through erupting giggles. “Like an absolute idiot! You gonna use Ali’s diaper bag as a weapon till we get back to the truck?”

 

He shouldn’t have asked that – the words were leaving Percy’s mouth and his brain was like, you know how this ends, but he’s Percy Jackson, he’s saved the world a few times and he’s sorry to say that the rumors are true – he’s got a big head on his shoulders and he can’t ever step down from a challenge. It still hurts when Nico hits him with the bag and baby powder goes flying, though.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

He remembers kissing Annabeth under water like he couldn’t possibly contain the motion anymore.

 

He remembers the combustion of fond feelings that exploded between them, from both of them, because they had been through so much and they meant so much to each other and they couldn’t possibly not kiss anymore, and he remembers it so well because about a month ago, he had replayed the scene over and over while crying boogery tears in his cabin until the Oracle of Delphi had come in and said, “ _Look_.”

 

And he had jumped up, mid-crying, and thought, no one had ever seen him like this. No one had ever watched him cry like a baby. But maybe Rachel had predicted this, and maybe she’d seen it before. She looked fed up with him, and he couldn’t imagine why. He just wanted to step out of the hero shoes and be the victim for a little bit, and he didn’t think it was too much to ask.

 

“Look,” she had repeated. “I’m sorry. I truly am. Because—I love you, Percy, you know I do, we all do. But it’s going to be OK. Good things are still coming. I’ve seen your death, and you don’t die of a broken heart.”

 

And that was how she comforted him. Because Rachel was one of the most fiery, zealous people Percy would ever meet, and she couldn’t afford to be sappy because she was just as much a Hero as Percy was. She had a job to do and she could relate to him (to anyone, really) all too easily. She had probably seen everyone’s death, and she had to be strong. She didn’t have time to worry about if Percy and Annabeth were going to last.

 

It stung a little, but then it also made him feel a lot better. And before she left, he had abused his being friends with the Oracle privileges, and he had asked, “Will it be different? Do I have to start over?”

 

And he had meant, without Annabeth, because he figured if he fucked up, Annabeth would always put it back together, and he saw that Rachel knew immediately what he was talking about, because she sighed through her nose and tried to think about how best to word her answer.

 

“It will be very, starkly different,” she said, turning to leave. “Night and Day difference, really. And you will change, and you will take a path you hadn’t thought you’d ever take. But it’ll be alright. You’ll like it.”

 

Percy had thought that was OK, and then later that night when he was sad again, he thought bitterly that it wasn’t, that if his life couldn’t go down the route where he grows old and happy with Annabeth and is called every so often to save the world all over again, what’s the point? He’d thought for so long that his life would always be: Be the Hero, capital H, let everyone lean on you, and when too many people lean on you, lean on Annabeth, and he hadn’t realized why that was a bad train of thought until he’d cried on Nico’s shoulder.

 

“You’re just a guy,” Nico had said, alone in the truck with Percy.

 

He _was_ just a guy. He was just Percy, first and foremost, and then somewhere down the line, he was the guy who helped save the world a few times. But with Annabeth, he could be the hero eternal.

 

It’s not until he’s looking Nico dead in the eye, like the kid is drowning in his love for Percy, like he would take a bullet for him this very second, any second, any day of the week, like he would get into a fist fight with an entire flurry of hydra heads all by himself if they said Percy Jackson had stupid hair, that he realizes he can’t be the hero.

 

Nico sobers you up like that, he guesses. Because he’d spent so long saying, _I just wanna be a normal guy_ , and he doesn’t realize he actually meant that until he’d taken a good hard look at Nico and cried on him. He’d been lying for years when he said he wanted to be normal, that he had never wanted to be a demigod truly, because deep down inside he knows he’d always wanted to be a hero, always wanted to be a legend underneath it all, wanted to be a campfire story. And then he gets too close to Nico and sees that’s what he is to Nico, a legend of a man, something Nico can’t ever reach and something he will always covet and protect and fight over and thinks, finally, that that’s not right.

 

He doesn’t want to be a hero with Annabeth, fighting monsters and being everyone’s favorite power couple, something to aspire to, something to sing about. He just wants to drive back home with Nico and his sister and be a normal guy.

 

He doesn’t want Nico to look at him like that – like he’s unattainable, like he’s Nico’s favorite superhero. He wants to wake up in the dirty old pick up truck with him and tease him about singing old songs. He wants to eat McDonalds with him and then afterwards whine about it (because no one ever has McDonalds and then goes, boy, I can’t wait to do that again). He wants to tease Nico about going to school or getting a job.

 

He wonders if Nico’s OK with that. He wonders if Nico will be disappointed that Percy isn’t the superhero everyone thinks he is. Because when he thinks of Nico, he doesn’t think about Nico raising the dead, or Nico clambering out of Tartarus broken and bloody, or Nico in the underworld, flanked on either side by skeleton guards.

 

He thinks of Nico rolling his eyes at Will Solace, and Nico eating blue pancakes with him at the diner, and Nico asleep in the car.

 

Then he feels Ali’ikai wiggle in her stroller like she’s bored and wants to get up, and he pushes the thought away. One step at a time, he tells himself. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Now, he has a sister to get home.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Asterion is a large guy, if Percy hasn’t made that clear. He’s broad and bald and looks like he wants to go for your jugular all the time. Ali’ikai loves him.

 

“Child attained, I see,” the River God says as Ali’ikai rolls her shark plush in the air like its swimming and jumping. He looks at her like a lucky man looks at a four leaf clover – like he supposes that’s something else, but doesn’t make to touch or take a mental picture or anything. “And surprisingly on time.”

 

“We had some help,” says Nico, as he bends down and piles Ali’ikai’s things that he’d been carrying back on the stroller. She whines when he’s down on her level and says, “Hold on,” high and gentle.

 

Asterion doesn’t seem to care, but he does look at the islands like he’s leaving home again. He watches the islanders pull the boats in and shut off the lights of around the bay, and then he turns on his heels and says. “Below deck.”

 

“Excuse me?” Asks Percy the same time Ali grabs a fistful of Nico’s hair again, the son of death’s scream an interesting accompaniment to his question.

 

“Below deck,” Asterion bites his reply out, looking over his shoulder. “The family brings gifts.”

 

Percy has no idea what he means by that as Asterion disappears inside. He listens to Nico’s soft cries of, “ _Please_ —please don’t do that,” like he can reason with an eight month old, as he wracks his brain for a solid minute before exclaiming, “Oh yeah!”

 

Apparently his excitement is contagious, because Ali kicks her feet with a happy squeal, successfully kicking Nico square in the rib. He goes, real eloquent, “Oof!” and doubles over, but apart from the look of sheer surprise on his face, he’s fine. He’s taken worse beatings. Percy laughs at the face and takes his sister from him, and if he sees the dirty look Nico gives him, he doesn’t say anything about it.

 

“Pelagia got us some goodies,” he says, in that high and happy voice you speak to a baby with. He bounces her in his arms, and she giggles quietly before laying her pretty head on Percy’s shoulder. He rocks her back and forth to encourage the motion of rest, and when he looks over at Nico, he is met shock and awe, like Nico wants to say something.

 

“How do you,” he starts, and then he huffs a quick sigh as he turns his head and begins again. “Never mind. Let’s go see what they brought for the baby shower.”

 

And Nico had been joking, but when they get below deck there’s a big blue streamer that says IT’S A BOY except BOY is crossed out and written above it is HALF BLOOD.  

 

There is a pile of things in the center of the room, but Percy and Nico are especially excited to see a baby seat to fit into the truck. There are packed bags that open to reveal a surprising amount of baby food and, and some more that are filled with diapers, if Nico’s anguished groan is anything to go by.

 

“Hey, look at this!” Percy slips back into doting brother mode quick and easy, picking the little containers of peaches mush up and showing it to his sister, who grabs at it for a second but then quickly loses interest. “Look at all the goodies, huh? People must like you an awful lot to get you so much cool stuff.”

 

This time, it is Nico who snickers at him, but Percy doesn’t make a big deal out of it and pout at him. Instead, he winks, and it shuts the son of death right up, his lips smacking together and eyes widening, and Percy laughs instead, fitting Ali’ikai in the seat made just for her.

 

“Are you gonna be one of those really awful doting types,” Nico asks, like he doesn’t care about babies or their little boots and teeny hands – all lies, Percy knows. “Because I’m not sure if I wanna sign up for that, all that high pitched baby talk.”

 

A pause, and no answer from Percy as he straps Ali into her seat and inspects her, makes sure she fits all nice into it. So Nico hazards, “You gonna do it to me?”

 

He sounds like he’s aiming for suave and pompous, but the words come out nervous and it makes Percy’s heart bob up and down like a boat in a storm. He snatches Nico by the hand, making him yelp in this really hot, manly, squealish way as he plants a big kiss to his thin mouth and coos, exaggerated, “Of course I am, yes I am, yes I am!” Until Nico shoves at him and laughs free and loud. Ali’ikai doesn’t like laughter that she’s not in on, though, so she quickly joins in until she drowns out Nico’s giggles and sort of vibrate-jumps in her little seat.

 

“You need a shower so bad,” Percy remarks, kneeling down and tickling his sister’s little tummy while she wiggles in the seat. “You smell like old people and baby powder and that is not a good mix.”

 

Nico rolls his eyes, sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’ll get right on that,” he says, and it’s sarcastic but there’s no venom. He paces around the small cabin and inspects it, slow and deliberate like he had been in Cabin III some days ago, like he’s thinking. “This’ll be a good place to sleep, I guess. What’s the plan?”

 

Percy isn’t expecting that question. He sort of starts, but keeps playing with Ali anyway. “What do you mean?”

 

“What do you mean, what do you mean?” Goes Nico, turning to look at him from his stride around the room. Percy feels him stop and goes to look at him, too, and is met by slender Nico at a three-quarters view. He’s caught between fixing on the fact that he’s getting older, getting taller, finally starting to fill into those big bones of his, and thinking that he needs to put some weight on him, thinking that his metabolism must be the stuff of legends. “What’s the plan? Where do we go from here, do you wanna check in at a hotel and wash up, or do you wanna plow through as much road as we can?” He gestures to Percy, like, _you know?_ “The plan.”

 

Percy quietly huffs, standing up when Ali loses interest in him and goes back to gnawing at the head of her shark. “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging and keeping his eyes on Ali like he doesn’t want to look at Nico. “Why do I have to be the guy with the plan?”

 

_I won’t always have a plan_ , he thinks. _Is that OK?_

 

Nico stares at him with his mouth sort of open but he doesn’t say anything for a while. He looks like he wants to push and fight that, but then he looks away and bugs his eyes out and sighs and shrugs like, _yeah, I guess you have a point_ , and he doesn’t press any more. Percy feels like he should be thankful Nico didn’t push his ridiculously high expectations on Percy, but really he just sort of feels like he’s dodged a boomerang, not a bullet, something that’ll come back another time.

 

“OK,” he goes, rubbing at his eyes because he’s, OK, he’s kinda tired, he’s not gonna lie. Today’s been a lot to process and he wants to sleep. “Let’s—let’s tire her out, give her dinner. And then it can be naptime. Then we’ll start driving and see how long it takes for her to wake up, I guess? Lots of coffee will be had, we’ll go through Star Dollars—“

 

Nico smiles at that, sharp and sweet and deathly all at once. He takes slow steps towards Percy like he’s treading water, pursing his lips just a little before he asks, too low and teasing for a boy that’s barely sixteen, “You ever gonna let that go?”

 

And Gods, he—he knows he should be talking to Nico before they get too wrapped up in their, in their whatever it is they’re doing, but there’s something about Nico that makes Percy wanna rise to the bait, like Nico’s a challenge in himself and Percy wants to wreck him, wants to swallow him up like an island in a hurricane. He wants to tear down every sarcastic layer of defense until it’s just breathless, honest, beautiful Nico just for him to see – and he thinks that Nico knows this because he honestly does start to reach out for him, like he’s gonna show him that, tell it to him, and Nico feels it and gets ready and smirks all smug, but then Percy stops and turns away from Nico, laughing like it’s casual.

 

“Not gonna let you live it down, man,” he laughs, as he unbuckles Ali’s seatbelt and pulls her out and into the air.

 

The room becomes heavy with the bitterness of Nico, so loud and deafening and all-encompassing it’s hard to even concentrate on Ali when she grabs at Percy and asks to be held. Somehow Percy finds the wherewithal to rock her back and forth before he sits with her and they get some good crawl-walking practice in, successfully pretending Nico isn’t there.

 

He thinks Nico says something sour and mean under his breath, but he doesn’t look up and ask. He feels rather than sees the younger boy walk across the floor with spiteful purpose, like he’s ghosting across the wood but somehow also like he’s stomping his feet into it. But he doesn’t seem to daunt Ali with his mood, so Percy keeps at her until she’s tuckered out.

 

And she does tucker out. She whines her hunger in high-pitched cries and Percy is shocked at how little it takes to quiet her. He presses soft kisses to the side of her softer head and spends another half hour trying to get the banana mush she reaches for into her mouth. It’s not that she’s picky or doesn’t want it – it’s that she’s over exuberant and tries to eat too much and she ends up coughing some of it out.

 

But Percy is not deterred. He knows a mission when he sees one, and becomes surprisingly patient with Ali’ikai, cooing praise when she finally gulps the mush down and whispering quietly the lyrics to _Hallelujah_ as she nods off in her stroller.

 

He watches her long after she’s fallen asleep, thinks that here with his sister as just a guy and not solely a demigod, yeah, it is a night and day difference, compared to the Hero’s Life with Annabeth he dreamt up.

 

Eventually, he sighs, and turns out the door, keeping it barely open to hear her if she starts to cry. Then he thinks that there’s only so many places a guy can be on a little boat like this one and goes hunting for Death’s only son.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

The funny thing is – Percy once killed a Minotaur with his bare hands, and he’s conquered Tartarus and slain Titans and pretty much been through hell (sort of literally been through hell, if you look at it one way), and he’s still scared to have this talk with Nico.

 

Because Nico is the most powerful guy he knows. Not even powerful in the way that he can raise armies of the undead without breaking a sweat (though he _can_ do that, and it’s _still_ impressive), but more powerful in the way that he’s growing up to be a very magnetic young man. He’s growing into the harsh lines of his face and he gets taller every time Percy looks at him.

 

It’s mostly that Percy just doesn’t like fighting though, and he knows Nico can be bitter. Fatal flaw and everything.

 

Nico’s leaning against the wall of the Ferry’s bridge room, his arms crossed against his chest as he watches the Islands of Hawaii become little dots in the distance. He looks more like the guy that had shown up and spit the news of Ali’ikai’s birth out to Chiron and less like the best friend Percy’s come to, well. Love.

 

Percy licks his lips. There isn’t an easy way to do what he’s about to do, and he doesn’t even truly know what is. He knows Nico’s mad and he knows that they have things to talk about, but mostly he knows neither of them are particularly good at laying their hearts out for people to tear into. With a quiet sigh, he takes a step, his shoe scoffing the floorboard to announce his presence, and watches as Nico’s head snaps around like lightning, looking harsh as ever.

 

“Ali’s asleep,” goes Percy, soft and gentle like he has to contrast with the volcano of a boy that Nico is. “We gotta while till we reach the shore, d’you wanna—you wanna go to bed?”

 

He’s barely said anything and it already looks like Percy has said the wrong thing because Nico looks at him like he just said something really offensive, like he’s just made a rude joke about Hades Kids or something. Nico uncrosses his arms but they’re still stiff, at his side like he’s ready to punch, especially since his hands are in tight fists.

 

“Do I—“ he starts to repeat, and he sounds like he’s out of breath he’s so angry, but he doesn’t finish, he just draws his lips real tight together and shakes his head.

 

Percy groans, sort of rolling his eyes towards the sea because he wishes they could just talk like normal people and not throw riddles at each other to get their thoughts and feelings out, but it’s the wrong move because he’s never seen Nico move faster then he does right then, like he’s a poltergeist flying across the room to Percy, just as pale and angry.

 

“ _What_?” He hisses, slapping the challenge right there in front of Percy. “What is it, Percy?”

 

“I don’t even understand why you’re angry,” Percy lies, but does a good job of acting defensive as he shrugs, he thinks.

 

“Yes, you do,” Nico spits back, and Percy remembers when he was just a boy and when he was young and scared and that is not the person in front of him right now. He’s still full of spite, yeah, but he’s not scared of it or timid about it; it’s his weapon and it cuts like a knife. “You always know—always have known, and you keep staring it right in the face and then turning around and pretending you didn’t see it when it’s right there—when _I’m right there_!”

 

“Yeah, of course,” goes Percy, noncommittally as he wipes his nose and still doesn’t meet Nico’s eyes. “Because this is all about you, yeah.”

 

“Oh, of course not,” says Nico, all dramatics and bitter theatrics as he backs up, like he can’t stand being this close to Percy. “Because then it couldn’t be all about you and we can’t have that, can we? Have to let everyone know who the hero of _this_ story is, don’t wanna let the fame or attention go to my head.” He shakes his head as he turns away, trying really hard to contain his anger but Percy can see him fumbling to hold it back. “You know, I meant what I said, you are _impossible_. You can never commit to anything, like you can’t decide if you’re fucking superman or a coward.”

 

“I’m not a coward,” Percy hisses through clenched teeth, only angry because he knows its true, but it’s the wrong way to say that because it makes Nico fucking _smile_ of all things, because they both know he’s right.

 

“You’re pathetic,” Nico says, like it’s such a grand old thing. “You can’t even look me in the eye.”

 

To prove a point, Percy looks at him sharp and holds the stare, his jaw set hard and heart beating fast. He watches as Nico goes from pompous to something else, the feeling melting out of him like he doesn’t need to hold his anger back, he just lets it dissipate.

 

“I,” he starts, like he’s ashamed, and his gaze flicks away, faltering under the intensity of Percy’s scrutiny. “I’m—You just.” He stops, collecting himself, before pushing on, “I’m not a kid.”

 

And yeah, he says it stern, but there’s this undertone of quivering fear, like Nico’s being scolded and he’s sorry. Percy doesn’t know whether to agree or argue. He just watches.

 

“So don’t,” continues Nico, though he wavers at the sheer intensity of his own words and just how much it means to him to finally get it out in the open air. “Don’t you fucking treat me like one.”

 

It’s not a big thing to say but it’s obvious it means a lot to Nico to say it out loud, so Percy shows his concern and confusion with his face and not his voice. When Nico finally looks back at him, it’s a little like the floodgates are open and Percy better run if he doesn’t want to get swept up with the angry tide of Nico’s feelings.

 

“Even when you—when you kiss me,” he continues, a little uncertain but trying to remain stern and stark. “Like I’m something little, something soft and precious—“

 

“Yeah,” Percy interrupts, the sarcasm and bitterness that Nico infects people with rearing its ugly head. “Because I only kiss people who don’t mean anything to me—“

 

“But I don’t need to be protected,” Nico nearly yells, and then they both glance down the hallway and wait for Ali’ikai’s wails for a second before Nico continues on, quieter. “I don’t need to be protected and if you’re gonna—if we’re going to do this you have to remember that. I’m not a little kid, I don’t need your protection, and you can’t treat me like that because I’m not—I’m _not_ the fairy-tale ending you want with Annabeth, Percy.”

 

It’s a low blow, they both know it, but it serves its purpose of knocking some sense into Percy because of course. Of _course_ Nico is already aware of his dilemma regarding Annabeth, and how he equated her to a life that wasn’t all that realistic. He breaks his gaze with Nico and looks at his shoes.

 

“What do you think this is,” he asks, sort of friendly and conversationally as he kicks the floorboard gently. “How do you think I feel about you?”

 

“Percy, I know how you feel about me,” Nico goes, like it’s obvious, and then corrects himself. “Well, maybe not—I know how you _think_ about me. I can see it when you look at me and it’s getting old. You still look at me like you looked at me when you told me Bianca was dead. Like you pity me. And I don’t want your pity anytime, least of all when you’re tongue’s down my throat.”

 

“I don’t pity you,” goes Percy, but it comes out soft and questioning and he’s not entirely sure if it’s true. Everything Nico says is too close to home and it sort of scares him that he’s so transparent with this guy. “I just worry about you, because I worry about everyone, and I—“

 

“I know,” chides Nico, sweet and low, and he reaches out and takes Percy’s hand, of all things. “I know, Percy. But you don’t worry about Annabeth.”

 

Suddenly, Nico is really close, and he’s not so angry, and his shoulders aren’t so stiff and he’s holding Percy’s hand with both of his like he’s helping him through a hard problem, and Percy searches all over his face for what that means or how he should respond to it.

 

“I,” he goes, eventually, the gears in his brain getting stuck as he thinks long and hard about that. “I don’t know what you—“

 

“Yes you do,” goes Nico, looking down at Percy’s hand and rubbing his thumb over the skin of his palm. “Please don’t—don’t act like you’re stupid. I know you see it. You don’t worry about Annabeth because you trust her to be your partner in crime, but if you want me to—if I’m supposed to—allowed to— _“_ Here, Nico sort of squeezes at Percy’s hand like he’s frustrated but trying to remain calm. “… _You know_. You have to trust me, too.”

 

“I trust you,” comes out of Percy’s mouth in a breathless hurry, and he doesn’t realize he’s pinned Nico against the wall until Nico’s hands are up and cradling his face. “I do, and I want you to—I’m just—do you really want me like this?”

 

Nico’s so close to him, and it strikes Percy that he is there, pinned to the wall, only because he wants to be. He sees, again, that Nico isn’t tiny anymore, and his hands don’t look as huge on him as they used to, and his eyes have at once lost the bitterness of a child too young to be so angry, and the glossiness that all children have and lose with wisdom and years. He’s so close to Percy, but not close enough because he presses their foreheads together like he’s gonna join him in prayer and he licks his lips before he speaks.

 

“Percy,” he starts, slowly, and his voice is deep and comforting. “I want you in any way you’ll give me.”

 

Percy nods, shaky almost as he relaxes with Nico and they slump against the wall of the Ferry’s cabin. “But I’m not—I’m not a hero, I’m just a guy.”

 

For a second, Nico looks mad again, but then he huffs a laugh, and it’s genuine, not sarcastic, as he wraps his arms around Percy’s neck and let’s Percy lean into him. “Yeah?” he prompts, ghosting his lips over the corner of Percy’s mouth.

 

But Percy doesn’t take the bait. He shakes his head quick and frantic and trudges on, not giving in to Nico’s distraction. “You have to be OK with that,” he breathes, using Nico’s words against him. “That I’m not anything spectacular. Because I won’t be the camp superstar my whole life, I’ll have to take care of Ali, and live a life outside of Olympus, and—“

“ _Percy_ ,” Nico whispers, again, as he takes hold of Percy’s face again and kisses the worry right out of him, gentle as a sea breeze. “Of course you’re spectacular, you _fucking_ idiot.” And Percy didn’t know it was possible to feel so strongly fond about someone insulting you like that, but he kisses back like Nico’s his anchor. “That’s what I’m talking about—you have to settle for being just a spectacular _guy_.”

 

“Yeah,” goes Percy, but it’s only partly an actual response to what Nico says as he slides his hands down Nico’s sides and settles them fondly at his strong, skinny hips. It’s impossibly hot, from the summer, and from Nico’s breath ghosting across his face. “And that’s OK? You’ll take it, that’s what you want?”

 

And truthfully, Nico wants to tell him everything he’s dreamt of confessing to Percy, but he’s currently pressed against a wall, sandwiched under Percy, who has no idea how many uncouth thoughts of him rattle around in Nico’s head all day, so he just presses tighter against the taller boy and kisses him like he can’t possibly not be kissing him anymore. He tilts his head and slides their mouths together at once like he can’t wait another second and like they have all the time in the world.

 

Percy supposes that is answer enough to his question, too concerned with getting reacquainted with the burning softness that is Nico’s mouth, and the conversation is nearly lost. Percy’s head is tucked snugly into the crook of Nico’s right arm, bringing them closer together, while Nico’s left circles around his middle, and Percy’s hands fit onto Nico’s hips like handles of a bike Percy will never forget how to ride.

 

There’s no way Nico doesn’t understand how powerful he is. He _lets_ himself be held by Percy, _lets_ Percy lead the kiss. They have to both know that Nico could bury him then if he wanted to in ways Percy couldn’t drown Nico.

 

And to be honest, Percy thinks he likes that way more than being the hero eternal.

 

He thinks Nico says something else about wanting all of Percy, wanting every side in any way he can take, but the way he says the word _want_ makes Percy sort of snap because he’s sure there has to be a way to get them closer, this proximity is just not enough and he’s gonna be greedy with Nico if the chance is there, so he picks Nico up and pushes him further against the wall, and is rewarded in kind when Nico makes a shockingly sweet sound of approval and wraps his legs around Percy’s waist.

 

There are still things left unsaid, they both know that much, but they’re tired and needy teenage boys, so they find that kissing the feelings into oblivion turns out to be a very healthy outlet for both of them.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Nico is still angry with him when Percy puts him back on his feet and tells him to come get some rest.

 

Sure, he’s also looking like he’s drowning in a sea of affection, and he puts his face in the crook of Percy’s neck before taking him by the fingers and leading him back below deck, but Percy knows he will always be bitter about some things, especially things regarding Percy. He knows Nico’s still mad, even though he’s forgiven Percy, and knows that it’s fine. You can’t fix everything.

 

“OK, so,” Nico starts, in the doorway to the small room with Percy. They survey the room, clustered with diaper bags and baby clothes, and look at each other. “How do we… do this?”

 

“Why do I always have to have the plan?” Percy goes, kinda whiney as he shrugs his shoulders.

 

Nico goes to smack him with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes. “Geez, get over yourself. Where do we sleep? Where is _my_ stroller?”

 

“I’ll get right on that,” says Percy with a grin, parroting something Nico had said earlier and earning a pinch to his arm ( _a_ pinch! Just one whole pinch. Who _pinches_?) for the Nico impression he says with it. Then he shrugs again, seriously considering the question. “Gods, uh. I don’t know. You can sleep on the bags and things. I’m sure you’ve slept in worse places.”

 

Nico’s hand goes out and he tilts it back and forth, like, _yeah, more or less_ , but he still doesn’t seem too happy about not being able to doze in the truck he has no problem sleeping in. “Depends on whose standards you’re taking into consideration. I happen to enjoy the cold, hard stiffness of a grave behind me as I sleep.”

 

“Gross, dude,” whispers Percy, smiling despite himself as he crosses the space of the room and looks for something to use as a pillow. He comes up short, to no one’s surprise, and finds himself eventually stomping around the place because he’s getting a little fed up with the fact that there really is nowhere to sleep.

 

“This is ridiculous,” he goes, like he’s offended. “How are we gonna—Why didn’t we think this through?”

 

Nico gestures between the two of them. “Not really anyone’s strong points,” he says, sitting on a table in the corner of the room. He’s waving his fingers through his hair, fishing out the specks of sand that have somehow gotten trapped between the tresses. “We could just sleep when we get to shore.”

 

“No,” says Percy, swatting his hand at Nico while his other goes to his hip angrily. “That won’t work. We couldn’t be able to get her to sleep again. Gods, and they said the worst was behind us. We’ll have to—There’s no way we can just sleep in the car all the way to camp, we can’t let the truck run all night to keep the AC on her and I just.” He pauses, trying to find another excuse, but ends up hitting at the air again when nothing comes to him. “I just don’t like her sleeping in the car the whole night.”

 

And Nico starts to say, “Stop shouting, you’re gonna wake her up,” but is promptly interrupted by Ali’ikai’s whining cries, and instead fixes with a mean look that says, _Good going, asswipe._

 

“Fuck,” spits Percy, and then, quickly, “I mean, shoot.” And then he switches from strategist to doting brother in .002 seconds flat and kneels down so he can be eye-level with his sister and goes, “Hey, sorry sweetheart. I wasn’t tryin’ to wake you up, how about you go back to—“

 

Percy goes quieter faster than he ever has, his hands on his knees and his eyes suddenly wide, and Nico thinks he sees his nose twitch.

 

“…What is that _awful_ smell?”

 

Neither of them know why the question is asked, because they know full well what the smell is. It’s almost like if they pretend they don’t know exactly what they are facing it will disappear, the universe will give them points for trying and magic the evil, despicable thing away.

 

The evil, despicable thing is poop. Percy knows it is poop, but still gives Nico this confused look, so innocent. Nico does not give him the sympathy he asks for. He steels his face and shakes his head gently, because he knows that they both know that it’s poop.

 

Ali’ikai’s soft cries turn into whiney wails fast. Percy doesn’t know if it’s because he just woke her up or because of the poop.

 

And he’s never given much thought to poop, but as he watches his baby sister wiggle in her seat, her hands out-stretched and demanding his attention, Percy begins asking himself where he could’ve learned about it, who he could’ve asked, and just as he imagines his mother giving him a pep-talk (a poop-talk, if you will), Nico rushes over to him impatiently.

 

“Jesus, Jackson,” he spits, nimble hands quickly going to pick Ali out of her seat, which she gurgles appreciatively at. “It’s not the end of the world!”

 

They end up spreading her blanket out across the long table Nico had been sitting on and laying Ali’ikai down on it. Nico gathers them 3 diapers (“Because we’ve got plenty to spare, and. Also, in case you mess up two times.”), the whole contents of the diaper bag, and had even fished out hand-sanitizer for Percy to douse his hands in afterwards.

 

He is a wonderful man, Percy thinks, as Nico pats him on the back.

 

They change the diaper. It takes them half an hour, but Ali’ikai giggles a lot through out so Percy guess that at least she’s entertained. The three of them are all stronger for conquering it, and he feels a very strange, but very strong bond form with Nico. The sort of bond you can only get when you help each other change a diaper for the first time in your life.

 

It’s exhilarating.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

But they do end up getting some sleep. They sleep against each other, pressed against the wall as Percy uses Ali’s blanket as a pillow. Nico’s pillow is Percy’s shoulder, and no one complains.

 

They thank Asterion, bleary-eyed and a little homesick, but before he lets them off the Ferry and back unto the beach, he stops, walking in front of Ali’s stroller and just staring at her. At first Percy’s scared because what could the River God possibly want from his eight month old sister, but instead of saying anything, or doing anything scary or the like, he just reaches his hand out.

 

Ali’ikai hands him her shark plush like they have some sort of telepathic link. The River God inspects it, and then waves his hand across it and it glitters, something straight out of Hollywood. He hands it back, and, glancing between Nico and Percy, mutters, “A blessing,” and leaves it at that. He disappears back into the cabin room and Ali goes back to gnawing on the head of the toy like she’s a shark herself.

 

Nico shrugs and they stroll the baby off the boat and into the beach. Everything is where they left it, and Nico is quick to get back into his boots.

 

There’s a ticket for illegal parking clipped to the wind-shield and when Percy says, “Oh, I guess we better pay that before we leave,” Nico throws his head back and laughs louder than Percy has ever heard him.

 

Ali’ikai joins in and Percy hopes Nico won’t be a bad influence.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

They make it out of California without a hitch. Ali doesn’t cry all that much and the traffic isn’t so bad, but Nico...

 

Nico is different.

 

He talks to Ali’ikai like Percy isn’t there to hear the way his voice hitches up – which is to say he baby talks her into oblivion. Ali’s baby seat is way closer to Nico than it is to Percy, and Nico keeps an arm around it like he’s scared someone is gonna come and try to take it. Percy goes to make a joke about it as they careen through Las Vegas, but the look on Nico’s face as he takes Ali’s shark and makes it ‘swim’ around her head makes him decide against it.

 

It’s a stark contrast, this Nico to the angry boy on the ferry. He had looked delighted at the prospect of hurting Percy’s feelings, but here, he looks content to let Percy’s sister wrap her tiny hands around his bony fingers. Percy wants to comment, start a conversation, ask about that. But mostly, he just thinks.

 

He thinks about the future, mostly, and his sister. His sister and the friends she might have, his sister and her time at camp, Chiron teaching her how to water canoe (which she will take to like a fish to water), the Ares Kid she will form a rivalry with, the monsters that she will… defeat, of course.

 

He glances at her, nervously. Gods, raising a kid on monsters might not be the best idea, but Annabeth got to camp when she was seven, didn’t she? Really, what’s the difference?

 

“You lost in thought over there,” goes Nico, real casual and quiet, and it brings Percy back to the present. He jolts, pursing his lips together and blinking hard, like he’d been nodding off instead of imagining how best to prepare his sister-daughter for the future.

 

“What?” he goes, quick and sharp. And then, “Yeah, yeah! I mean, no, I mean.”

 

Nico gives him this soft, well-intentioned smirk. It makes Percy’s stomach lurch, his bones aching from their gravitational pull toward Nico’s. He manages a half-nervous grin back, glancing from Nico to the road, before he goes. “I’m fine. Thinking about camp.”

 

Nico hums, his fingers playing with Ali’s wispy hair, which is a weird thing because don’t babies have like, self-destruct buttons there? But it calms her right down, almost puts her to sleep. “Homesick,” is all he says, as the man in the radio talks about the sweltering heat sweeping across the nation quietly.

 

Percy sees the opportunity, right there, like Nico’s giving it to him free of charge, so he lunges. “You should stay at camp. More, I mean.”

 

And he knows Nico knew that was coming, but he still sighs out the window, relaxed against Ali’ikai’s seat. “I mean,” he starts, slowly, less like he’s thinking and more like he’s going through his whole head for the right excuse, searching. Eventually, he settles on a slow, “I’ll try. I do a lot of stuff with my dad, Percy. He sends me on his own quests – more like errands, really, but.” He stops here, looking over at Percy to finish. “I guess I could pop in for sword practice.”

 

Percy just nods. That’s good, he’ll take that. They ride in silence for what seems like a while but is probably more like a few minutes, and then Nico says, “And maybe into the Poseidon Cabin a few nights—“

 

Percy laughs, reaching across Ali’ikai to hit Nico on the arm, and the laughter that rings out of him is astounding in its lightness. Nico is no good at lying, everything he feels is always right on his face, his heart on his sleeve eternal, and Percy doesn’t need to hear him say, “I’ll stay with you, with everyone, with Ali, and I will help you be a man and not just a hero,” because it’s so evident in his laughter.

 

The first day, though, is hard. They have to pull over a few times to change diapers and get food, appropriately playing rock, paper, scissors for who’s on Baby Duty (“Percy, no—don’t you laugh at that joke, Percy, Jesus.”), and combat the strange stares people tend to give two teenage boys with a baby. They sit down at a diner for lunch and do their best to stock up on coffee and greasy french-fries, and as Percy gives Nico a chance to indulge in his very apparent soft spot for awful fast food, he spoon-feeds Ali’ikai a bit of his milkshake and discretely surveys the area, looking for sneers or giggles from the other patrons.

 

He gets them in kind is the short way to put it; he sees an old couple with maybe their grandkid whispering about how they can’t figure out why anyone would trust a baby to a couple of kids. It doesn’t upset Percy or anything like that. He just hopes nobody says anything outright to him – or, Gods forbid, to Nico.

 

With a shrug, he turns back to Nico, who is unhinging his jaw to fit the dripping monstrosity of a cheeseburger into his mouth. It makes Percy crack up, but he quickly buries the laughter with a cough into his fist. It does not deter Nico. He stares on, gnawing on the huge bite with his mouth closed like some sort of cow, but he’s looking at Percy with those half-lidded eyes that mean he is not impressed.

 

“D’you mind?” He goes.

 

Percy smiles. Nico needs a shower and a change of clothes (needs a kiss, is what he needs, he thinks, quietly), and could maybe benefit from a good shoulder rub – or a vacation. He needs a good soak in a warm bath and a day or two to sleep those circles under his eyes off. Percy imagines he always looks like he needs these things, to an extent, but he especially needs them now, with baby powder stains on his elbows and Ali’s banana mush clinging to a strand of his hair. How Percy finds this mess of a boy endearing, he will never understand.

 

Percy reaches out across the table, wiping a bit of burger-drip away from the corner of Nico’s mouth. Nico tenses when his hand reaches towards him, but outright freezes when he feels the touch of Percy’s thumb against his lip. Once the cheese-mayo-grease has collected onto Percy’s finger, he pulls back and licks it off casually, though he does keep eye contact for romance’s sake.

 

“You,” goes Nico, but then he looks around and counts exactly three people who watched that happen and turns precisely the shade of the inside of Ali’ikai’s shark toy’s mouth. “That was—That was like _all_ mayonnaise! And in—“

 

He tries to say _in front of all those people,_ tries to keep up the act of being offended, but Percy knows him well enough in this light that he understands that’s just a little out of character. His theory is proven right when Nico starts to chuckle, warmly, and shove fries back into his mouth. Percy can see the exact moment where he just says, _ah, who cares?_ and looks to the baby.

 

“And in front of _Ali_ ,” he says, sounding deeply offended with a fry hanging out of his mouth. Percy cannot help but grin widely. “You’ll make her think that’s acceptable S.O. material.”

 

“Well, I think I’ve already proven my standards to be significantly six feet under to her,” says Percy, cleverly, as he wraps one arm like Ali’s seat like it’s a whole, normal sized person. “I can’t wait till she starts asking why I kiss you if you always smell like grave soil.”

 

Nico smiles, evilly, and fires back by moving his foot against Percy’s. Percy only grins in response until Nico’s toes begin to creep up his calf and he sort of jumps, suddenly uncomfortable in his position in the seat and squirming to get right.

 

With a jolt, he realizes Nico is playing footsie with him and suggests they hit the road. He asks for the rest of their milkshakes to go and for the bill, hurrying over his words while Nico throws his head back and lets his obnoxious laughter fill up the diner. That is the impression they leave Nevada with, their last stop on the way to Utah, and Percy shakes his head as he collects Ali into his arms and marches his way back to the truck.

 

Nico follows, almost stumbling across the pavement to their car, like he’s drunk or something, and hazards, giggles still lacing his words, “You aren’t _mad_ at me, are you?”

 

Percy shoots him a dirty look as he looks up from hooking Ali’s seat back into the car, and Nico looses it all over again. He follows him to the drivers side and situates himself between Percy’s legs right before he’s about to turn to face the wheel. And Nico’s lower on the ground than him, much shorter than he usually is, since you have to sort of climb into their death trap of a vehicle, so he gets to see Nico look up at him from under those thick lashes, a stark contrast to the shit-eating grin he’s wearing.

 

He pulls Percy down and gives him a slow kiss. “You told me I tasted like dirt,” he whispers, in his most romantic voice, and OK, that makes Percy giggle, so he is forgiven.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

And then it just – it just gets distracting after that.

 

Because like, Percy really wants to get home, right? He wants to fall into his bed and sleep for more than two hours without having to cater to Ali’ikai because the girl cannot nap for more than a second for some reason, and he wants to take advantage of the killer bath in Cabin III Connor and Travis have been using this whole damn quest, but just a little more than that, he just wants to lock Nico di Angelo in a dark room and wreck him.

 

Because he has come to understand a whole lot about Nico through out this trip: how he’s his father’s errand boy/budding advisor/strategist, how he wears his hair in a ponytail sometimes, that he will sell his right arm for a greasy burger any day of the week, that he has an okay singing voice and a pretty good sense of direction – but they all fall to the side when Percy remembers that he is decidedly not awful at kissing.

 

How this is true, he isn’t sure, because Nico has extensive knowledge of about two things: death and card games, which doesn’t prompt anyone to have a lot of romantic or sexual encounters, so realistically, he should be a shit kisser. He should be an angry, hurried, too-much-teeth-every-time kisser, but he’s not bad. Not bad is selling him pretty short, actually. He knows exactly what to do with his hands every time, he does not hesitate, he knows how to part his lips just the right way to make Percy wanna park the car and give them a little bit of attention—

 

And he—he—OK, that is _it_.

 

“Please turn this off,” Percy pleads, voice hard and patience thin, a man who has seen too much. “Please, I cant— _I can’t_.”

 

“ _You’ve given back my joy in life_ ,” Nico sings, in a very pleasant voice, pretending to get really into the music they’d been listening to the _whole entire day_. He looks so gentle and carefree; Percy forgets for a moment that he is the son of death, 99% bitter snark and 1% pointy elbows. He looks softer, here, lounging against the interior leather. “ _You’ve filled me with new meaning—_ Aw, come on, Percy, don’t you like the Muppets?”

 

Because there had not been one single cassette in the truck; there was not only Jeff. There had been another. _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_ , circa 1972. And it had been on loop for roughly six hours.

 

There are only so many times a man can listen to Miss Piggy croon through _We Wish You a Merry Christmas_ , and Percy found that line pretty quickly.

 

Why Ali’ikai didn’t take to Jeff Buckley like Percy had was beyond him, because he’s pretty sure that if he had steady connection to the internet he would buy himself a poster of that man tomorrow. Jeff Buckley knew things about life Percy was sure you didn’t just wake up knowing, that man had to have been through a lot to incorporate all those lessons and metaphors into such beautiful songs. Made him want to pick up a guitar just to string out _Dream Brother_ in times of need.

 

So when they played _Grace_ from the top, he and Nico having memorized most of it by now, and Ali immediately began to thrash and cry, Percy had been, well. Confused, to say the least, upset to an extent, and shocked that this was his sister, his flesh and blood, and _she didn’t like Jeff Buckley_.

 

Granted, she’s eight months old, but. Still!

 

Nico, who had also come to enjoy a fruitful love of Jeff, was not quite as offended. He’s never even heard of the Muppets anyway, so it sort of just flies over his head that he’s supposed to dislike it solely because it’s for children and ‘adults’ are supposed to hate it. He sang along, even, since he at least knew Christmas carols.

 

“It isn’t,” Percy grits out, through clenched teeth. “That I hate the Muppets, I just can’t take much more of them. It’s August, anyway—not exactly time for Christmas.”

 

Nico chuckles, low and quiet. He’s feigning innocence, but it’s so obvious he knows exactly why Percy’s upset. Percy wouldn’t be surprised if he hated it too and has been singing despite that just to piss Percy off. “Never too early for some Yuletide cheer,” he laughs out.

 

“Nico,” goes Percy, firm and desperate. “I’m not kidding. I don’t wanna listen to, ‘Kermit _The_ Frog, here,’ any-fricking-more, please turn it off—“

 

So Nico does, face emotionless and hands quick as lightning, and immediately after his hand leaves the dial Ali’ikai breaks into uproarious wails. Percy groans in time with her crying, and Nico joins in on the number with a very evil, Hades-like chuckle.

 

“I miss Jeff – or quiet,” Percy whines, rubbing his eyes. It’s dark and they’re pretty much the only ones on the highway but they’re not too far away from the cluster of towns around Denver, so at least Percy can try and get some peace and quiet in what he estimates is only maybe half an hour. “Why isn’t she sleeping? She hasn’t slept in like six hours – stop keeping her entertained so she can fall asleep.”

 

“Wow,” goes Nico, slow and shocked, “It’s almost like she has energy to burn – like she’s a real thing who doesn’t just sleep. Imagine that.”

 

“I have had just about enough of you,” Percy goes, and he admits it’s very Paul Blofis when he says it. He figures there are only so many hours you can spend behind a wheel with a baby before the powers that be instill a little bit of Dad into you. It’s just something you accumulate. So he says it all stern and firm but when he looks at Nico, he’s looking back happy as a clam.

 

The smile on his face is languid and lazy, and Percy would want to kiss it if he knew it wasn’t there just to broadcast Nico’s smarminess. In retaliation, he frowns pointedly, which makes Nico laugh again.

 

There’s this one track on the album that isn’t very Christmas-y, and its Ali’ikai’s favorite. It sounds like a literal lullaby, and it’s more of John Denver than any of his Muppet friends, so Percy guesses he minds it the least. It makes Ali go from squirming and whining to thoughtful and cooing, like she is eight months old and still piecing together the universe’s mysteries with the lilting tune of John Denver. She likes to make loud noises along with songs because, he guesses, she thinks she’s singing along, but with this one, she really wants to soak it up.

 

It’s kind of weird, and kind of cute, Percy guesses.

 

Nico sings along with it to try and lull Ali into sleep as they finally pull into a more populated area, and though Percy is definitely paying attention to the road, there’s a part of his brain that can’t stop thinking about the lyrics to the song.

 

“ _Thus the winds of time will take us with a sure and steady hand,”_ he whispers, his voice low and quiet and just there enough for Ali’ikai to grab hold of the words. “ _When the river meets the sea._ ”

 

“That’s kinda deep,” goes Percy, as they pull into the near-empty parking lot of some Super 8, and he says it quietly, just in case Nico’s magic did work and his sister really is asleep. “For the Muppets. For kids.”

 

Nico watches Ali’ikai for a while, waits for her breath to become low and gentle, signaling she has slipped into sleep, before looking up through his thick, heavy eyelashes at Percy like he had made the habit of doing. He doesn’t smile, only observes, and Percy is shocked that he doesn’t feel scrutinized under the intense gaze. Instead, he just feels safe.

 

Nico doesn’t reply to him for a while, but after a second he sighs, obviously tired, and mouths, dramatically, “Let’s go,” while gesturing out of the car. Fumbling Ali’ikai’s seat out of its hold as gently as they can takes them a total of twenty of minutes, but when she’s finally freed from its clutches, they consider it a success.

 

They do not consider the rest of the night a success for the most part.

 

For one, the boy who checks them in spends about half an hour trying to get them as secluded a room as possible since they have a baby in their care that could wake up wailing any time, and for another, the aforementioned worker seems to be scared of Nico - which he’s used to, but he’s tired, so he’s really short and clipped and he bites out that he’s not here to mug the hotel, he’s here to buy a room.

 

And then it takes them a while to get all of their stuff into the room, and somewhere along the way Ali wakes up again and Percy thinks it’s a good idea Nico’s still grounded from using his powers or else he would’ve leveled the whole damn building.

 

So roughly an hour after pulling into the parking lot Percy is finally permitted into actually falling into a bed, and yeah, he can vaguely hear his mother in the back of his mind saying, “Percy, you know that whenever you check into a hotel you check for bugs under the sheets,” but he shoves Sally Jackson into the darkest and dustiest crevices of his mind and snuggles into the mattress anyway. The sheets aren’t as soft and worn as the blankets in his cabin or the ones kept in his actual room back home, but they’ll do. It’s better than the sleeping bags they brought with them, or the jacket he’d used as a blanket a few nights.

 

“Oh, no,” Nico goes, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he carries Ali into the room, hauling her seat/carrier with his free arm. He looks pissed and tired and sort of like an old pro, the way he carries Ali’ikai like he’s been doing it for years. “Don’t offer to help or anything,” he says, sitting on the bed across from Percy and settling Ali into his lap.

 

“Really?” Percy pipes up, face tucked into a pillow. “Cool, I’m just gonna conk out then—“

 

“The hell you are!” Nico roars, and he’s trying very hard to be that special Hades brand of scary, but he can’t quite pull it off with a bouncing baby in his arms who’s trying real hard to get his hair in her mouth. Percy moves so only half his face is hidden by the pillow and gives the two of them a lazy, brilliant smile. Nico looks confused by it at first, but then he looks away, a little flustered, and bounces Ali’ikai again.

 

“What’re you doing awake?” He asks, like he’s talking to a competent adult and he expects an answer. “Who gave you permission to do that? Go back to the sleeping.”

 

Percy puts his voice as high as it’ll go and says, from his comfortable position on the bed squeaks, “Sorry, Nico, I’ll get right on that!” and snores obnoxiously. He only stops when he feels Nico sit on his back, because he’s too busy coughing. “Okay, okay, point taken!”

 

Sitting up, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs deep through his nose. If he’s honest, he’d really like to tell Nico that he trusts him from here on out and go to sleep, but that’d be a dick move, and Ali’s his responsibility, not Nico’s. He holds his hands out, says, “Come,” and Nico obliges happily, handing the wiggling tangle of limbs that is the baby like he’s glad to be rid of it.

 

“You deal with that,” he says, motioning to Ali’ikai as he stands up. “I’m taking a shower. I have deserved that much.”

 

“Oh, Nico,” says Percy, dramatically, to his younger sister. “He works so hard. How _does_ he manage?”

 

This stops Nico, halfway to the bathroom, and he turns back to Percy with this downright predatory smile on his face. Percy only raises his eyebrows at the younger boy, because neither of them can ever say no to a challenge, and he thinks it’ll be this big thing, this dramatic motion or overly-sexed up thing he says, but instead, he just takes a few steps back to two of them and gives Percy the grossest, sweetest, spit-laden kiss to his cheek.

 

He speaks, “The other day my heart grew three times in size, and now I just can’t quit handing myself out to people,” right into Percy’s ear before he presses a much more appropriate kiss to Ali’ikai’s forehead and walks back towards the bathroom and—and maybe it’s just Percy’s imagination, but it looks a little bit like he’s swinging his hips.

 

He shakes his head, says Nico’s hips don’t matter (can’t think about them right now away, baby in his arms and all that – not very good big brother behavior), and goes back to Ali’ikai, who looks to be mourning the length of Percy’s hair, upset that it isn’t long enough to put in her mouth.

 

“Sorry, kiddo,” goes Percy, standing up and swinging the baby around in his arms. “You gotta get outta that habit, though, because I don’t think Nic-Nic likes it when you num on his hair, yeah?”

 

He stops, then, and thinks, man, this baby thing really changes you.

 

He spends a while fiddling with the hotel radio (Ali’ikai gets really excited at Mika’s _Popular Song_ , and Percy makes a mental note to introduce her to the soundtrack of _Wicked_ ), singing songs at his baby sister, which she seems to really like, and making her shark doll dance around to the tunes, which she likes even more judging by the sound of her thrilled squeals. He asks her a few questions, just to enjoy the way she coos back eagerly like she knows what she’s being told, and spends a while tickling her, but when she starts crying again and none of the above makes her stop, he realizes there’s really only person he can consult about the whole matter.

 

So that’s how he ends up digging around in the pocket of Nico’s bomber jacket, fishing around for drachma he can send off to Iris the messenger goddess, chanting, while rocking baby Ali’ikai back and forth, “Oh, Iris, messenger – Ali, hush – messenger goddess, show me Sally Jackson.”

 

It isn’t until Sally’s coming into blurry focus that Percy realizes, you know, maybe calling and explaining the situation ahead of time would’ve been better.

 

To say that Sally is surprised is a little bit of an understatement. She’s doing the dishes when Percy is suddenly in her kitchen, a baby in his arms, and she drops the plate she’d been holding with a shrill shriek because, as good as she is about Percy’s whole demigod business, she never truly gets used to this sort of thing. She’s always polite and patient – was when baby hydras started worming their way through their water system one summer, was when Percy sent her a post card of his whole gaggle of friends all beaten and bloody with just the words ‘saved the world!!! Made it out OK!!! Love you, Mom!!” written across in sloppy handwriting, was when Percy had to bathe in the river Styx, et cetera – but she never knows how to get used to it, how to expect it. So, obviously, it always shocks her, and sometimes she freaks out, even if she’s really cool about the whole deal when she’s done.

 

So the plate hits the floor and Sally Jackson grabs a handful of her curly hair and groans and goes, “Percy Jackson, what are you doing in my kitchen?”

 

“Oh, no, Mom,” goes Percy, like he’s eight years old and he’s trying to explain that there is a perfectly good reason why he needed to draw this particular work of art on the hallway walls. “I’m not really here, it’s just like a projection of me. I’m actually somewhere near—“

 

“Is that a _baby_?”

 

“Well, yeah, but—“

 

“Perseus,” she says, in that voice that drips with stern motherly concern and suspicion. “Why are you in my kitchen with a baby _without even calling in advance_?”

 

“Well,” goes Percy, sighing the words out like, _well, that’s a tale for when we’ve both got a lot of time on our hands_. “I mean, I have to take care of her now and I can’t think of anyone else to—“

 

Sally doesn’t let him finish. She turns into something that looks vaguely like a gorgon, her face flushing and her voice going shrill and screaming about how Goddammit, she was fine with him saving the world and slaying monsters, but if he thinks he is ready for a child he has another thing coming, why on earth wasn’t she told sooner, she knew there was something suspicious about how little she’d seen of Annabeth—but thankfully, Percy’s savior Nico chooses this time to reemerge and soothe things over like the true diplomat he is.

 

“Woah, woah!” He goes, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Where’s the fire—What’s going on?”

 

“My mom thinks I’m a young parent,” says Percy, like he’s irritated and, _ugh, parents, right?_

 

  
“Well,” shrugs Nico, his hand swaying back and forth like this boat could tip either way. “I mean, all things considered that isn’t completely ruled out but—“

 

This isn’t the right thing to say, and Sally roars back to life, all but collapsing onto the floor about how she knew just letting Percy go would be a bad idea, she should’ve moved to Estonia away from this whole Olympus business when she had the chance, but she didn’t _wanna_ learn the language and now here she is, a grandmother _at her age_ , and Percy and Nico have to slip more drachmas into the offering bowl, sit down, crack their knuckles, and spend too long of what was supposed to be there mini-vacation explaining their whole journey to Percy’s mother.

 

They guess they would’ve had to do it sooner than later, but damn. The looks Nico gives him for doing it now is enough to chill him to the bone.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

It takes a long time to finally let Sally let them go, because even though they learn a whole lot from her tales of trite single motherhood, they are exhausted and the shitty hotel beds are calling their names.

 

“Gods, but you both look awful,” Sally says, shaking her head and taking a bite out an apple. “You get to bed – the three of you. And call me if you need anything. And please look after her. Please don’t. Just.” She stops, chewing hard and thoughtful, before swatting at the air tiredly. “Keep out of trouble – just this once.”

 

“Yeah, mom,” says Percy, who always turns about four years younger when he talks to this mom, going from legal adult savior of the world to disgruntled teenager in about .002 seconds at the sound of her voice from miles away. He goes, “Love you, too,” before they disconnect the call, and the second, the very second, it is done, Ali’ikai begins to cry again.

 

Percy and Nico exchanged hardened looks. The sort of looks they had to exchange in the fight with Gaea, where they had to time their movements just right and they had to it without talking, except instead of people screaming and monsters laughing there is only the sound of a couple fighting down the hall and Ali whining incurably loudly.

 

It’s Nico who finally breaks the look with a long sigh, thrusting his arms out. “Give her to me,” he says, and he’s so tired it sort of all turns into one word, _givvertomme_ , but Percy happily complies, regarding Nico like he is a wizard – he must be if he knows how to make this stop.

 

“She said,” Nico goes, getting to his feet and rocking Ali’ikai back and forth, “lullabies always worked for you, right?”

 

Percy blinks, but does not reply. And he’s glad of it, because Nico begins to walk over to the other bed, swaying his little sister gently to and fro as he takes a breath and starts singing.

 

And you know, sometimes things get too much for Percy. Sometimes he takes too much information in and he can’t talk to you because he’s busy listening to eighteen conversations all at once – it comes with his heroes instincts, or, as they’re called by modern sciences, his ADHD. It’s always been a problem he’s had, and he’s learned to just suck up the headaches that come with it. He’s known, for years, that his life will always have that background buzz, that he will always be too aware of what’s going on around him, that he didn’t need serenity like he needed the safety this hyperawareness gave him.

 

When Nico starts singing he thinks he might’ve gotten it wrong.

 

And he’s heard Nico sing this whole trip. The guy isn’t bad, and it obviously makes him lighter, singing a song he knows the words to, but this is different. It’s a lullaby, Nico is using his voice to put Ali’ikai to sleep and it’s this hushed, soft thing, laden with trust and sincerity. He sings as he straps Ali into her seat, slow and gentle, and eventually, she stops wiggling her limbs every which way and just stares at him, like she’s captivated, and Percy doesn’t blame her.

 

“ _Like_ _a baby when it’s sleeping in it’s loving mothers arms_ ,” chants Nico, low and quiet and soothing. He stops in his song, to smile and Ali, like they’re sharing some inside joke, and the next line is delivered with sincere love and amusement. “ _What a newborn baby dreams is a mystery._ ”

 

It’s weird, Percy cannot help but think, and he is on his feet before he even realizes it. He watches as Nico crouches down so that he’s looking at his sister, playing with her fingers as she slowly closes her eyes, and as Percy walks closer, it’s like he’s walked in on some intimate thing, or like they’re two beautiful, timid woodland creatures he doesn’t want to startle. He gets to the edge of the first bed, and just sits there, holding his breath, watching Nico lay his heart out in front of the two Poseidon children unabashedly.

 

“ _But this life will find a purpose, and in time she’ll understand,”_ whisper-sings Nico, as he stands. He’s quiet for a beat, and then finishes, “ _When the river meets the sea_.”

 

And it’s a little bit like Nico fixes the world like that, because the headache Percy’s had on the edge of his brain for days dissipates, and the couple down the hall goes quiet, and the ringing of the TV, even though it’s off, stops dead. Percy doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until Nico turns to him instead of his sister, the finishing line tumbling from his lips like a prayer, barely holding the melody.

 

“ _When the river meets the almighty sea_.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Percy wants to sleep but the sharp, dark arrow of a boy in his arms keeps him up.

 

Nico doesn’t necessarily say anything, or whisper anything, because they have to be quiet if they want Ali’ikai to sleep through the night. But he does wiggle his way under Percy, making the son of Poseidon box him in against the mattress, like he doesn’t need blankets if he has Percy. Nico worms under him, reaching for him, and Percy can’t see his face in the dark but he pretends it’s a look that’s eerily reminiscent of the shocked, bright-eyed face he’d made when Percy had pulled him over the edge of the truck, the sharp pout he’d glared out the window when he was mad on the drive to L.A., and the soft, trusting smile he’d given Ali’iklai when he sang her to sleep.

 

If Nico’s trying to ask something, Percy doesn’t know who the hell he is to deny him. He smiles at the Nico-shaped thing under him, and falls unto death’s son like a breaking wave. Nico’s arms tangle themselves around his back as quick as they can, a little bit like he’s starved for touch, but mostly just like he’s ready for bed.

 

The rest they get is glorious. Nico is impossibly warm and content and Ali’ikai is wonderfully quiet.

 

Percy presses his face into the curly locks on top of Nico’s head and falls asleep thinking of this boy, this sweet, strong, warrior of a young man, picking a fiddler crab out of his jacket on Chiron’s leather chair. He huffs a laugh, Nico groans, and they sleep.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Percy dreams a memory: the trip back to camp after Gaea’s defeat.

 

Piper, Jason, and Leo, who are pretty much one entity, are all buzzing about what they’re going to do next. The smaller two of the trio sort of fold into Jason, as he envelopes them in this weird, out of place bear hug, and even though Percy and Jason aren’t the best of friends, he still finds himself smiling happily at the gesture, like he piggybacks off the good feelings they throw into the air.

 

Hazel is midway through a lecture, because Frank had been pierced with an arrow to the knee (Leo had laughed so hard he actually started crying, stopping only to squeal out, “You have no idea how long I’ve been holding this in, man! I mean, I couldn’t just laugh when we were fighting, but now that we’re all alive – Ah, gods, it’s just too much!”) and she had taken it upon herself to let him know, in detail, how this wound could’ve gotten infected and just generally be very adorable and mother hen-y. Percy thinks they are the sweetest kids he’s ever known.

 

And Annabeth is to his right, and she squeezes his hand tightly. He knows she wants to talk about how they did it, they fucking did it, they beat the odds and saved the world _again_ and here they all are, a family, her family. But she’s tired. She’ll tell them all later, but for now, she just shows a sneak peak of it to Percy in the way she entwines their fingers together.

 

Gods, does Percy love her. She’s amazing, and smart, and tough, and a great person, a great friend, girlfriend aside.

 

Then, Nico walks into the room, sporting a brilliant black eye and swinging his heavy stygian sword over his shoulder. He whistles a jaunty tune, walks right into the middle of their cluster of friends, and sort of pops his hip out.

 

“Alright,” he calls, “So what’s next? Put Mother Earth in her place, do we have to hit up Father Time and let him know we run the sandbox now?”

 

It’s the first time they all group hug, mushing Nico right into the middle. A great memory.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

The day after that is by far the worst part of the whole goddamn trip, though, and here’s why:

 

They run out of supplies and have to go into a Wal-Mart, first of all, and in the beginning, Percy had thought, yeah, this is gonna be hilarious, but the second they step foot in there, Nico becomes serious and stark, all 5’7” of him, sharp and angry and a man on a mission, and it becomes increasingly apparent that he has never been inside a Wal-Mart. A McDonalds, perhaps, a dollar store, maybe, but never a huge place like Wal-Mart.

 

This wouldn’t be an issue if they hadn’t gotten lost a grand total of way too fucking many times. But the worst part is – you know how every time you go into a Wal-Mart, there is always a couple with a screaming baby? They are that couple. Percy apologizes to the universe, and to the Wal-Mart.

 

Nico also terrifies the associates. It’s very obvious that his seriousness pertaining to baby care strikes fear into the heart of many a fumbling teenager, and Percy actually has to apologize to their face after Nico stalks away because he’s a little harsh with them, asking them point-blank as he stares into their eyes why they work here if they don’t know the answers to his questions.

 

And even when they finally get out of the place, Percy can see being around so many people has left Nico in a piss poor mood, and to be honest, Percy isn’t fairing much better because they’re still listening to the motherfucking Muppets.

 

They get into a fight about the Muppets CD and it only ends because Ali’ikai gets upset and they have to stop. Percy apologies by way of buying Nico a cherry slushie (even if it is he get a little offended that Nico doesn’t want his in blue raspberry), and Nico accepts and gives him a kiss, but the air is still tense and filled with the voice of Miss Piggy.

 

They hit a deer. Percy cries as Nico drags it out of the road.

 

They drive through a storm, trying desperately to find a gas station that still has power, and they only barely make it when they see a light in the dark, a gas station with all sorts of lights on to let everyone know it’s open. The tank has been literally empty for about 5 miles, and Percy nearly kisses the old man who runs the joint.

 

Nico buys an apple pie but leaves it on top of the car. When he watches it hit the road from the rear-view mirror, he goes still as the grave, and Percy has never seen him be more still and emotionless. He doesn’t think an apology would sit well with him, so he keeps quiet.

 

At 7 PM, just a little ways outside of St. Louis, Missouri, they stop at a diner. Greasy food seems to have been the only thing keeping Nico optimistic about the rest of the trip at this point, so Percy is eager to replenish his spirits by way of artery-clogging goodness.

 

But the diner is out of French fries. When Nico asks for it, he looks young and happy and eager and adorable. And when the waitress says they’re fresh out, he keeps looking at her that way, face changing only to blink. Percy watches the two before him have a staring contest, scared and uncomfortable on the waitresses end, and dead-eyed and smiling from Nico’s.

 

“Okay,” he says, cheery as cherry pie, as he gets up and gets his coat. “Let’s go, Percy.”

 

And Percy calls out, says he’s being ridiculous. But he decides that he wanted some fries too, so they give up their seats and Percy carries his little sister back outside, finding their car parked against the sidewalk.

 

“Let’s go,” says Nico, pointing upward, like he’s pointing straight for the heavens, like he’s gonna crash Olympus and demand fries. He climbs into his spot in the passenger seat and starts bobbing his knee up and down, impatiently waiting for Percy to get them out of here and to the next diner. Percy groans, rolls his eyes, thrusts Ali’ikai into Nico’s hands and climbs in, starting the truck up again, except—

 

Except it just sort of coughs and sputters. And when Percy looks at Nico as if to say, “Woah, what’s that?” Nico looks back evil and dark, as if to say, “Don’t.”

 

“It’s not starting up!” goes Percy, all defensive, because he can hear Nico’s angry, urging words marching up his throat, ready to attack and fire out of his pale, livid mouth. “I don’t—I just put gas in this thing, what’s the deal?”

 

“You’re doing it wrong,” hisses Nico, reaching across Ali in her seat, who coos appreciatively a magnificent squeal of a hello. This is sort of funny, because Percy remembers, clear as a day, a few days ago when Nico was spitting out angrily he didn’t know anything _about_ cars, but now he’s an expert, so Percy holds his hand up in surrender and sits back, let’s the professional do his business.

 

Nico grips the keys about seven different ways before he finally jerks them forward to start the car, and, like Percy knew would happen, the truck just barely begins to roar to life before it skitters off track and stops.

 

The look on Nico’s face is half _my apple pie just fell off the roof of the truck_ and half _I’m gonna tear the shit out of a phoenix_. Percy opens his mouth to say that it’s OK, he’ll look under the hood, but Nico interrupts him.

 

He’s leaning over Ali’ikai with one hand on Percy’s thigh for leverage, so when he turns his head he’s pretty close to Percy. Not that he has time to get any ideas, because Nico looks absolutely furious (not that Percy doesn’t think that’s a good look on him), and when he begins to speak, he’s all Hades, words sharp and dark and bitter. “The truck won’t start.”

 

How he says something so simple so menacingly is beyond Percy, who just shrugs in response. He thinks now isn’t really the time to talk, and Nico continues.

 

“We are stuck in the middle of the country,” continues Nico, low and dangerous. “States away from camp, and the— _the piece of shit won’t even work_?”

 

Percy doesn’t know what to say, except—“Uh, yeah?”

 

Ali’ikai takes the opportunity to remind the two of them of her existence. She’s probably the only one still interested in food, judging by the way she’s grabbing for Nico’s hair, itching to get a mouthful.

 

Nico glares on. He does this—this kind hot thing where his tongue sits in the back of his mouth and his jaw shifts, and Percy can see that he’s strategizing, looking for a plan of attack.

 

He’s gotta get this kid to a McDonalds, and fast.

 

“OK,” goes Nico, nodding, and that’s it. He throws his hands up and just gets out of the car, starts putting on his coat and backpack.

 

Percy sputters. “OK?” He goes, reaching out for Nico like he can reel him back in and tether him to some sanity. “OK? Where are you—Nico, where’re you going?”

 

But Nico just walks away, and Percy gathers his things as well and puts Ali in her stroller in record time and runs after him. And that’s how Nico leads him deep into the city, like he knows exactly where to turn at every stop sign and intersection, until he is marching them into the parking lot of a very big, very extravagant hotel.

 

“Uh, Nico,” says Percy, intelligently, as he jogs to catch up with him. “Are you—“

 

“ _Done_ ,” spits Nico, before Percy can finish. “I am done, I am positively finished. I am tired and my head itches because the shampoo from last night sucked and I’m hungry— _and_ ,” he stops, on the cement leading to the entryway now. He looks a little bit like a madman, a little like he looks when he’s itching to fight or drag Clarisse into sword practice. “ _And_ I’ve got a lot of money and no way to spend it, so—so I say, just fuck it!”

 

Nico throws his hands up and screams fuck it next to a hotel with a French name Percy can hardly read much less pronounce. A gaggle of uniformed gentlemen ask if he’s come for their weekend getaway special, and Nico looks to Percy and raises his eyebrows a few times in a way that’s almost really hilarious, except Percy’s still shell-shocked by the change of plans so he doesn’t laugh. He tells them, dramatically, _yes, thank you_ , and gives them his bags. He fiddles around his pocket until he finds the wallet, full and fat and bursting that Percy had made him buy in Topeka, and shoves a handful of dollar bills into the employee’s hands.

 

The busboys take their things and usher Nico inside, who turns to Percy and does the eyebrow raise thing again, and this time Percy laughs.

 

Because, yeah. Yeah, maybe they could use a little rest, a little pampering. Only saved the world – _twice_.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

When Percy is done bathing Ali’ikai in the huge bathtub Nico had scored, he comes out into the main room of their rented quarters to find the projection of Leo Valdez, looking a little bit like a scolded child.

 

“What were my exact words,” Nico is hissing, and Percy can only see his back, shoulders drawn up to cross his arms over his chest, but he smiles when he imagines the stern look he must be giving the Latino boy.

 

“Don’t wanna piece of junk,” mumbles Leo, making one word out of a sentence, and he kicks at the ground and looks away from the son of death. “I thought it—I thought it’d be _fine_ , though!” Then, glancing up, his demeanor changes in a second and he smiles brightly at Percy. “Baby?”

 

“I don’t trust you with a machine,” goes Nico, and Percy can just hear his eyes narrowing to slits. “You think I’d let you near Percy’s sister? Don’t even _look_ at her.”

 

At this, Leo huffs a great big sigh and his pointy shoulders slump down dramatically. “Look,” he goes, launching into a story Percy isn’t really in the mood to hear. “Need I remind you that I once fixed a magic mechanical dragon that everyone was sure was broken and cursed - and flew him pretty much cross country. And the poor guy still broke down. Sometimes things break, man, maybe you did something wrong to it—“

 

“And need I remind you,” Nico cuts him off, stepping closer to the projection of Leo like he’s two seconds from going for his throat. “That we have a toddler in our mist and can’t exactly trek the way back. I can’t believe—“ He stops himself here, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Percy could weep, or give him a great big hug, because he’s pretty sure that’s anger management, and he hasn’t been this proud of Nico since he stopped himself from exploding unto a young Aphrodite girl who took the liberty of braiding a piece of his hair in his sleep. “You know what, nevermind. Just—just tell Chiron, or Clarisse, or whoever has a chariot that we’re stranded and we would like a mode of transportation that actually works. Can you do that?”

 

Leo pout-scowls at the ground like he’s about to ready go off on a rant, but then he looks up and locks eyes with Percy, whose face is saying, “Go for it, friendo,” and, “Listen, you don’t need to tell me,” because if anybody needs to talk about how much of an insufferable asshole death’s only son could be, it’s Percy Jackson. And at the go-ahead from Percy, the fight just drains out of Leo’s face with another, lighter shrug.

 

“Yeah,” he goes, all casual again. “OK. Beauty Queen took Annabeth to Seattle to fight some whatchimcallit, maybe they can swing by and give you a lift.”

 

Nico doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns right around and looks to Percy, and his face is serious and he looks all thoughtful and battle-weary as his face seems to ask _is that OK?_ And it makes this big doofus grin spread out all across Percy’s face, to which Nico only scowls at.

 

“That’s fine,” says Nico, obviously in charge here, which Percy thinks he doesn’t mind, as he sits in the big fluffy bed and sets Ali’ikai down next to her shark. “We have her number, anyway. Update Chiron on the state of affairs and let everyone know: baby acquired.”

 

“Geez,” goes Leo, and he tries to act kinda offended but he’s grinning too much for anyone to believe him. “Yes, _general_. At ease.”

 

With a signature brand of obnoxious laughter only Leo Valdez could pull off, his visage disappears, and Nico huffs a great big sigh, reverting from battle strategist back to angsty teen, and Percy smiles quietly as Nico faceplants into the white, fluffy, monstrosity of a bed.

 

There’s some part of Percy that has known, for a lot of this trip, that Nico wasn’t going to sing Jeff Buckley around just anybody, and that he wouldn’t act like this more friendly (albeit still snarky) version of Nico to any old half-blood that gave him the time of day, but it really comes to his attention when he sees how differently he treats Leo as opposed to how much more relaxed he gets when it’s just him and Poseidon’s children in the room.

 

He goes from tense, sharp, ready to fight if anybody picks one to loose-limbed and smiley, from serious and stark and business-cold to curled up on a bed like a cat ready to nap. Percy smiles down at the back of his head as Nico very gracefully slides off the bed, only to crawl back on and attempt to curl into a literal ball without a word. He looks to his sister, as if to confirm that this is, in fact, extremely endearing, and Ali agrees by way of putting her shark in her mouth and chewing loudly.

 

Percy only shakes his head. If this is how he’s gonna spend the next few days, sandwiched between Nico, endearing in the way that he sleeps like a log and gets incredibly offended when you make pop culture references around him and don’t explain them, and Ali’ikai, frustratingly cute in the way that all baby girls are, then, well. He guesses he’s okay with that, for now.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

Nico has never been one for luxury. He’s used to carrying the bare essentials -those being his sword and a granola bar, as he is prone to low blood sugars if he doesn’t eat, which makes him cranky. He had been shocked when, after the war, he was reinstated into Camp Half-Blood and given free meals and a graveyard with soil he was just free to take. He had told Percy once, quietly, at a campfire, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to how things were just given to him here. It was so easy, there was no life-or-death situation to face and it was – weird.

 

That being said, the way he tells the young men who come and ask if he’d like anything for dinner precisely what he wants and how he wants it, and, oh, if they could go across the street and try to find the Muppets movies, that’d be great, is at once comical because the employees clearly see him as a boy who had been raised in luxury, and because afterwards, when they are gone, he looks at Percy like he’s so proud he can make them just go and do that for a little bit of money he just _found_.

 

One busboy does come back with Muppets, you know, because the universe apparently feels like Percy hadn’t suffered enough in the car. It’s a more modern movie, from 2012 or ’11, Percy thinks, and has that great big guy from How I Met Your Mother in it, so it’s not awful. He doesn’t really pay attention to the plot, but it’s nice to leave Ali’ikai alone and take a breather because she’s found something to keep her endlessly entertained.

 

He watches on the bed with her, just taking a moment to crack all his knuckles, roll his shoulders, just generally stretch and enjoy the fact that there’s no baby to hold for a second, and at first he half-watches the movie with Ali, but then he starts thinking.

 

And it’s something he knew was coming, but he didn’t really want to have to face it. Every time he’d dramatically airplaned a spoonful of peach mush into her mouth, and every time Nico hissed in pain from her pulling on his hair, the reality of the situation would rear its ugly head, but there was always something to distract him from facing it.

 

But when it’s just him and Ali, her tiny little head bouncing up and down as she shakes her shark at the TV, it slaps him right across the face and if he pushes it anyway anymore he’ll fall apart.

 

What is Percy going to do with her?

 

He thinks about Sally, about his mother shrugging and smiling softly when Percy asked if she was gonna marry Paul, or what, but it feels like such a copout to dump Ali unto his mother. She had already dealt with raising one child of Poseidon, and if Percy’s honest, he’s pretty sure she couldn’t take dealing with another one. He wants her to marry Paul and be icky and gross and happy with him, she doesn’t want her to worry when monsters start coming out of the woodwork to take her kid away again. She deserves better than that.

 

His biggest problem is that he seriously considers raising her himself – you know, because he can do so much with that solid C average he fought for through high school. Sometimes it’s kinda hard to remember that yeah, he may be the best of the bunch at fighting monsters and saving the world, but outside of that, what can Percy really do?

 

He knows how to take care of himself on the battlefield, can make it out of Tartarus with half his memory if he had to, but he’s not a good cook and he’ll procrastinate on laundry till the end of time, and if he’s honest, he has no idea how taxes even work. Like, is he just giving his money away? He’s already paying for stuff, why does he need to keep paying people?

 

With a sigh, Percy lets his head fall back unto the headboard of the bed and groans. Ali answers in kind with a squeal, and surprisingly, it’s enough to quell his worries.

 

“Me too, kiddo,” whispers Percy.

 

The French Fries Nico so desperately deserves come in at around noon, and Nico finally emerges from his deep slumber, like Dracula from his coffin. He looks a little dead, but he always kind of looks like that. At least he looks well-rested, his bed head sticking up every which way and a very handsome line of drool cascading down his chin. He’d ordered service in his skull shirt and boxers this morning, then went right back to bed, and Percy didn’t know who he was to tell him not to, so he let the poor guy sleep.

 

He doesn’t have the decency to put pants on as he shoves a few dollar bills at the server through a quarter-way-open door and snatches the huge plate like a thief in the night. He carries the tray back to the bed in the center of the room with bright and eager eyes, eyes he has only for fries, and Percy fondly wonders, _wow, I wonder if he’ll ever look at me that way_. 

 

Ali’ikai makes grabby hands at Nico as he passes her by, but he just moves to tray closer to his chest like she’ll lunge at his treasure and goes, “not for babies,” as he places it on the foot of their shared bed.

 

Percy watches them for a moment, Ali making vague noises half in tune with the music from the TV, and Nico shoving seventeen fries in his mouth at once like that’s the only way he knows how to eat them, and he keeps it in for a while before he finally starts laughing, slow at first, sincere and sweet, and then slipping into the obnoxious roar his father so graciously bestowed upon him.

 

“What,” goes Nico, not like he’s offended or angry, but with open, bright eyes and a sincere, questioning tone. He says it while chewing on a handful of shoestring potatoes, as if anyone could take him seriously like that, and Percy just laughs harder.

 

“Nothing,” he goes, fond and happy, and sneaks a couple fries into his mouth. “I just really needed this vacation.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

He gets through another day of pushing the feeling aside before he realizes Nico’s unto him.

 

And you know, Percy wonders, does he have a thing for incredibly perceptive people, or is he just insanely easy to read? Instead of thinking of Ali’ikai growing up in orphanages, running from place to place like Leo had, or even hopping from school to school and being the odd man out like Percy had, he laughs this inquiry at Nico. And sometimes Nico gives it to him, lets him have it, and kisses the knot of vertebrae on the top of his spine that pokes out from the hem of his shirt, but other times he fixes Percy with a long stare, a hard look like had showed him on the ferry.

 

Sometimes it’s easy. The hotel has a pool Percy takes advantage of, and it’s easy to manipulate the water around Ali’ikai so she’s floating and thrashing safely by herself when nobody else is there, and with a constant stream of TV shows and Muppet Movies, it’s easy to take a nap, curled out around Nico’s waist, who sits up and actually watches the stuff. It’s easy.

 

Sometimes it isn’t. Midway through eating a sundae Nico ordered for him one day, his stomach lurches when he remembers that he might have to give his sister up. Nico corners him in the bathroom one day and pulls him flush against himself by his belt loops, and he wants to be all for it, but when Ali’ikai cries that she’s ready for attention, his heart falls straight into his stomach. Not in the way that he has responsibility to Ali first and Nico second, but in the way that he can’t help but think this might be the last time he ever hears that cry.

 

On the third day, when the ending to some episode of _Will & Grace_ is almost done, and Percy’s just shy of following his sisters lead and getting some more sleep, Nico’s palm slides across the plane of his stomach before settling on the hip furthest from where he sits, and Percy is suddenly wide awake.

 

He starts to wrack his brain for some snide comment, some flirtation that will retaliate, but instead, he sort of makes this weird noise, half like you just ran a slug up his back and neck and half like he touched a hot stove on accident. As unsexy as that sounds, it appears to be what Nico was going for, so he is rewarded with a slow smirk and Nico’s form moving to straddle his waist.

 

Again, Percy’s brain throws him into memories of Nico on the bus to camp, hurriedly explaining his favorite mythomagic cards, and Nico tied up in the labyrinth, young and sour and pouting, and Nico coming to join the fight against Kronos, an army of the undead behind him and a too-big helmet falling in front of his eyes. That Nico cannot possibly be the same young man who has such an effect on Percy as to render him speechless, something the rest of the seven (and anyone who knew Percy, really) would openly marvel at, but then again, he must be.

 

But damn, is it nice to see Nico smug and smiling instead of stiff and scowling. When the awkwardness leaves him, replaced only by fondness, he reaches up and settles one hand on Nico’s hips. They lock eyes as Debra Messing cries about her relationship with her mother behind Nico, and are silent.

 

Eventually, Percy goes, smooth as can be, “Hey, how ya doin?”

 

Nico shrugs, shifting his weight and getting comfortable. “Been better,” is all he says, and ends the small talk in the way that he folds down unto Percy, comfortably lying on top of him before whispering into his ear, “Do we need to talk about your feelings again?”

 

And of all the things Percy was expecting his—his boyfriend? Uh, er—Nico to say after perching himself elegantly onto his lap, that was not one of them. He regards Nico like he’s not quite sure how either of them got there, and Nico looks at him like he’s an old pro at dishing out feeling talks. Percy wants to enjoy the comfortable look on Nico’s face, but instead he’s just shocked that Nico’s so good at seeing through his shit.

 

“Wha,” he starts to say, and then he sits up, so Nico can’t lay on him anymore, though he keeps his stance firm in Percy’s lap. He shakes his head, blinking his vision back to full clarity. “Uh, no, man. I’m OK. Do I look bad?”

 

Nico just watches him, all curiosity and burning intensity it’s hard not to crumple under. “Well,” he says, quietly, after searching both of Percy’s eyes as thoroughly as he can. “Not _bad_. But you’re thinking about something and you won’t tell me what it is. And it’s kinda pissing me off, so what is it?”

 

Percy huffs one quite laugh, but Nico doesn’t move to smile. Not that he looks pissed off – just patient. It makes Percy sigh. OK, fine, he’ll bite, jeez.

 

“I don’t,” he starts, slowly. And then he looks at Ali, sleeping softly in her little stroller by the TV. “…I don’t know what to do with her.”

 

For some reason, Nico looks like he wasn’t expecting that answer. His dark eyebrows pull down fast and hard, and he sort of tilts his head at Percy. “…That’s it?” he goes, after a second.

 

Percy sputters. “Well!” He says, kind of defensively. “Yeah!” His hand motions to Ali violently, his eyes looking all around the room like he can’t decide what to say first. “I can’t just ditch her! Put her in some foster care, leave her with someone I don’t know till monsters get after her, but I don’t know—I don’t know if I can take care of—“

 

He stops. Nico’s head dips down so his hair covers all of his face, and after a second he realizes the guy is laughing at him. He shoves him off, only half-joking, but Nico seems grateful, because he goes for the fluffy pillow next to Percy and shoves his face in it to silence his obnoxious harpy laugh. And he has the nerve to say Percy’s laughs are loud.

 

“You don’t know what to—“ He stops, sucking in a breath, then tries again, “Don’t know what to do with her? Percy—Percy. _Percy_.”

 

“What?” Percy hisses, and Nico snickers at him, and his face is all pink from laughter, and Percy can’t even pretend to be mad.

 

Nico moves so that he’s lying on his back, and his clothes are getting a little small for him, because there’s this line of skin under his shirt, very pale and calling Percy’s name. He settles into the mattress like he’s getting ready for bed, and then, in a way that makes Percy believe he really is a spoiled brat, opens his arms for Percy.

 

With a roll of his eyes, Percy follows the order and slowly crawls into Nico’s embrace. He’s shocked to find that just being here, fitting his head under Nico’s bony chin, subdues the storm of worry turning his stomach up and down. Nico’s long and pointy limbs circle around him as Percy fits his under the other boys back. Their legs slowly tangle together, and soon all that he can hear is Nico getting comfortable, and Nico’s heartbeat, and the _Will & Grace_ theme song quietly returning as the marathon continues.

 

“There are whole half-blood families working out just fine in New Rome,” says Nico, very quietly, like it’s a secret. “Demigods and their children and their children’s children are going to college and turning into surprisingly competent individuals. I’m sure somewhere in an entire community of people exactly like you is the answer to your problems.”

 

Percy is quiet, chewing his lip as he thinks about this. Before he can tumble moving camps around in his mind, Nico continues. “Well,” he says, a little mirth in his voice. “Not quiet exactly like you. Probably a little sharper, but that isn’t saying much.”

 

With a wild smile, Percy worms his way out of Nico’s shockingly strong embrace and gives him a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And would you,” he says, softly, “be more willing to pop in there than to catch sword practice at camp with me?”

 

And he knows it’s a lot to ask – he knows it’s so selfish to look this boy in the eye, this boy whose life he has wrecked at least three times, and say _will you help me raise a kid_? But all those glittering, bold, extravagant titles he won are meaningless if he can’t have his friends help him in his journey – his journey against mother earth, his journey into adulthood, the big journey that is _his whole life_ , because Percy’s nothing without people.

 

He needs them. But he thinks, with all they’ve been through – the double-crossing, the saving the world, burying their friends, dealing with the pain of Tartarus, the way they’ve learned to fight in perfect harmony, completely apart from the way they’ve learned to kiss each other just the way the other likes it, and the way Nico will pull him down that little bit and make them level just to nip at his jaw and under his ear, the way Percy’s grown attached to picking him up, and the way Nico knows instinctively to wrap his legs around Percy’s waist and actually, sincerely, throw his head back in laugh – with all they’ve been through, he needs Nico most of all.

 

The children of The Big Three are more prone to violence. They change too much, do too much damage. Chiron had told him this his first week of camp, and again when they had learned of Nico’s godparent being Hades. And he had been worried, a little scared, because he didn’t want to go at Nico’s throat, start a war with him, change and destroy all they cared about because they couldn’t get along.

 

But here, smackdab in the middle of the country, in this fancy hotel Nico had all but had a tantrum over deserving, Percy thinks that the opposite of that’s true, too. That he could make the world a better place with this guy.

 

Nico swallows, thick, and his prominent Adam’s apple sort of bobs under the taut skin of his throat. “Probably,” he whispers, and it’s all Percy needs.

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

On the fourth day, Annabeth finally gives them a call.

 

It’s worse than when he left her, somehow. It’s more awkward now than it was trying to pretend things were OK at camp. They laugh at the wrong moments to try and lighten the mood, there’s lots of awkward pausing, but it goes OK. Percy tells her about the naiads helping them along the way, about Hawaii, about being underwater, about his sister. She asks where she is and he puts the phone to Ali’s spit-laced mouth and says, “Say hi!” and watches her squeal happily at the extra attention. Annabeth coos, because no one is resistant to a baby’s charm.

 

“Well,” says Annabeth, and Percy can hear her move around, like she’s searching for something. “We’ll be done tonight, I’m pretty sure. It took us a while to find the nest of Cyclops, but we’re almost done, we think! Gimme your address and we should be able to get you sometime tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” goes Percy, and he’s fumbling through the hotels pamphlet for a second before he finally finds the page, and smiles. “OK, it’s, thirty-one _thirrrty_ \--!”

 

From the darkness comes Nico, his palm skittering under Percy’s shirt and snaking its way up the front of his stomach. He’s nipping gently at the back of his neck, more teeth than lips, and, and _that son of a bitch_ , Percy can just feel the smirking curve of his lips against his skin.

 

Gracefully, he puts the phone to his neck and whisper-hisses, “Dude! I’m trying to get us home!”

 

Nico shakes his head, and Percy feels it because his nose bumps against his skin a few times. “I’m not stopping you,” he says, calm and serene, and Percy rolls his eyes viciously as he pulls at Nico’s wrist, yanking his hand out from under his shirt. He hears Annabeth call his name a few times, voice laced with worry, before he goes back to her.

 

“Hey, sorry,” he says, clearing his throat and pretending Nico isn’t even there. “Ali’s a little—she likes licking, putting things in her mouth, and it’s kinda—“

 

“Now there’s an idea,” whispers Nico, his other hand latching onto Percy’s hip as he goes back to work on the line of muscle between Percy’s neck and shoulder. Percy clamps his mouth shut so he no one can hear the sound of his breath being vacuumed out of his lungs as he closes his eyes and all but prays for mercy and patience.

 

“Distracting,” he finishes, harshly, more of it aimed at Nico than Annabeth.

 

They finish the call without a hitch, even though it’s a little weird, and it feels like he’s falling through the Twilight Zone for a second when she says “G’bye,” and he thinks back to every farewell she’s ever told him, sweet and loving and all Annabeth. He’s quickly anchored by the soft hum of appreciation Nico gives when Percy unconsciously tilts his head and gives him better access to the side of his neck.

 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when he puts the phone down, and Nico had crawled over to him by the other end, effectively latching himself unto Percy’s back. He’s sitting up by his knees when Percy ends the call, very eager to leave a mark if his vigor is anything to by, and that’s when it sort of clicks for Percy.

 

He turns his head around, a glorious smirk on his face as he quickly stands up to turn around and box Nico back against the bed. He is rewarded in kind by way of Nico mouth exploding into a huge grin, pulling him over by the collar and meeting him more than halfway for the kiss he’d wanted.

 

“Think you’re slick, huh?” whispers Percy, against the slack-jawed softness of Nico’s mouth, who keeps up his satisfied smile throughout their kisses. “What’re you, worried? Think I’m gonna forget about this whole quest just in time to be rescued by my ex-girlfriend?”

 

Nico doesn’t answer, and Percy makes it easy for him for by not looking up to see his face. He thinks it could be a lot of things, could be Nico’s usual hateful poker face, could be Nico’s pursing his lips and drawing his eyebrows down, could be he looks angry that Percy even brought it up. But he goes quiet, and doesn’t reply, and hooks his arms around Percy’s middle.

 

“I’m not going to,” Percy continues, reverently. He presses chaste kisses to the line of Nico’s pointy jaw and squeezes him, a protective hold, and a promise. “This is gonna stick, OK? You’re sticking around for me.”

 

_No more running_ , he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Nico is grateful.

 

“Yeah,” goes Nico, hoarse and quiet. He moves his hands so he can thread his fingers through Percy’s hair and closes his eyes, his forehead burrowing against the muscle of other boy’s neck. “Yeah, I’ll stay. _You’ll_ stay.”

 

Then it’s sort of like Nico’s trying to make them one person the way he pulls Percy down and pushes himself up, and he’s not interested in kisses, not interested in friction or touching in any way that isn’t purely chaste, he’s just interested in making Percy his grave, in being sealed inside his arms till the dirt takes him back home and he’s nothing but decay and death and grave soil. He takes skittering, shaky breathes, like if he fills his lungs with the scent of the sea that rolls of Poseidon’s son, he can tether himself to the mortal plane that had spent so long kicking his ass and convincing him he was better off dead.

 

And you know, Percy’s not sure if it’s because they’ve spent all this time together, or if the children of the Big Three just get each other like that, or because there’s only so close a person can be to you before you start picking up the thoughts in their head (in their _heart_ ), but he feels this, sure as he knows he belongs to the ocean. Sure as he knows Ali’ikai will make it, and he will make it with her and for her, and Nico, in ever-changing roles, will be there, too.

 

Because Percy’s a bright guy. Even after losing his memory and getting in touch with his Roman side, he’s always been frustrating idealistic, but Nico can really make man somber. He can be cold water to the face, or he can be as gentle as the tide on the warm sand, but either way, he isn’t the sort of person to tell himself falsehoods. He’s too honest, too blunt, and that bluntness can really sober you up. He doesn’t beat around the bush and he isn’t good at hiding his feelings and it’s hard not to just feel what he’s feeling, sure as if he’s telling it all to Percy.

 

So he knows that this isn’t an engagement. It’s just a next step. For Percy, into adulthood; for Nico, into acceptance and owning up to how great he really is; for Ali’ikai – gods, into family.

 

And for all of three of them, just a step in the right direction. Into life, into the passage of time, and into the fact that sometimes you don’t have to get anywhere right then. Sometimes you can just stroll by the beach and pick a direction and walk in it and just see where it takes you.

 

So Percy will see where it takes them. He’s down, Nico’s down, so why not? What’s wrong with moving to New Rome and learning about nannies and demigod preschool and college? Why can’t he do that – why can’t he be a guy, a guy who saved the world a few times, mostly a guy who’s educating himself and taking steps and focusing on the present and the future. And why can’t Nico be the son of Hades, but also a young man blooming into great things? Why can’t he learn how to make lasagna, and how appropriately speak to strangers? Like, he learned how to summon the dead.

 

Percy and Nico summon and the dead and control the tide and shake the _fucking earth_ together. There is absolutely no way they won’t be able to help a community raise a kid, and pick classes together, and learn to cook together.

 

“We can do anything,” says Percy, and he pulls back from Nico, and watches as Nico’s arms search out like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He tangles their fingers together, pins Nico’s hands to either side of his head, leans his weight on him, gives him this crazy smile like he’s drunk on power, and drunk on Nico. “We can do _anything_ , Nico. We could level this building, we could wake the dead, we could swallow continents into the ocean.”

 

Nico says, “We?” Like he cannot believe what he is hearing, and his eyes are wide and trusting and his mouth quivers on the word. Percy thinks he’s not used to the meaning behind it, and his smiles grows even bigger.

 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his heart somersaulting to and fro at the thought. “We. We can wreck the world and save it three times over. So I think we can make this work.”

 

And Nico opens that pale, thin mouth, and tries to speak, but doesn’t. He keeps his eyes lock on Percy like the guy is scaring him, but also sort of like he can’t find the right way to smile back. Eventually he goes, “Yeah.” And then, as he sits up, and takes Percy’s head in his hand, cradling his jaw in his cold, open palms, “Yeah, OK. OK, Percy.”

 

For a second, Percy forgets he isn’t in his cabin and can’t lock Nico in and tell him he isn’t going anywhere. His hands don’t seem to mind as they zip up and down Nico’s sides and grip his hair hard enough that Nico gasps so Percy can dive down his throat with his tongue like he’s looking for buried treasure. When his brain finally kicks the notion into the rest of his body though, his hands fly up, and he swallows hard, just in time for Ali’ikai to throw her shark at Percy’s head and shriek, “Kermy!”

 

While it does take Percy a minute to process what happens, as soon as he makes eye-contact with Nico again, it’s like he gives the guy the last piece of the puzzle and Nico loses it, pushing Percy off of him and flopping back down, his hand flying to his forehead and screeching his hideous, cackling, beautiful harpy laugh.

 

Percy doesn’t think it’s that funny. He rubs the place on his head where the shark collided, and when his hand leaves, there’s a fine net of saliva left in its wake. He sighs.

 

“Kermy, again?” He goes, as he kneels down next to his sister and hands her doll back. She’s bouncing, out of her seat and playing with Nico’s bomber jacket (more like drooling on it, and sticking the fur in her mouth, and flapping the arms around like it’s a weapon, but Nico doesn’t seem to mind). “What about Aladdin? We have that too, it’s super—“

 

Ali’ikai slaps him dead in the face with Nico’s jacket and says, as stern as a toddler can be, “Kermy,” and Nico is off again louder than Percy has ever heard him.

 

“Don’t you,” he chokes out, trying to sound serious and stern through his laughter and failing miserably as he stumbles to his feet, “Don’t you fuckin’ make her tell you again, yeah? Haha!”

 

So with two against one, Percy obliges, because he guesses somebody has to be an adult, and the way Nico tilts his head and goes, “Maybe the fur of my jacket is super delicious and I’ve been missing out this whole time,” when Ali’ikai pulls a handful out and eats it, as Percy rushes over and says, “No! No, we don’t eat that!” seems to insinuate it’s gotta be him. He’s okay with it, he guesses.

 

“Nico, will you go get me a soda from the vending machine,” he calls over his shoulder as the Muppets starts from the top. He’s cracking open another container of baby food, peas this time, which Percy has always detested, but, eh, whatever, he doesn’t have to eat it.

 

Nico’s scratching the back of his head and sighing deep when it’s asked, but turns anyway and goes, “Yeah, orange?”

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

“Whatever,” finishes their conversation as Nico takes the burden of having to put on actual pants and walks to the door, which is darkened considerably compared to the rest of their room. The curtains are drawn because Nico spends a lot of his time sleeping, and there are lamps near Ali they can turn on, so why not make the room as dark as it can possibly be? But the door to the hallway is the darkest, and when Nico goes to reach for the doorknob, that slab of darkness swallows him up with a noise like all the air leaving the room.

 

Immediately, Percy is to his feet, dropping Ali’ikai’s food (who doesn’t seem to mind, since she never has trouble finding something to stick in her mouth) and darts to the entryway. His heart lurches into his throat and gets tangled between his lungs and he finds he can’t breathe because – because Nico was right here and now—

 

“Holy shit,” he hears the son of Hades say, appearing from the darkness in the doorway to their bathroom. He looks star struck as his eyes search all around the hotel room, making sure he is where he thinks he is. Then his eyes find Percy, still full of dread and worry because he hates not knowing what’s going on, and then Nico’s face breaks out into this brilliant smile, this honest-to-gods smile that is full of wonder and sincerity as he takes a staggering step back towards the center of the room.

 

“I just shadow-travelled,” he says, looking around like he can’t believe it and the answer to _why?_ is hidden somewhere in this room. And then Percy can see him tell that question, ah, who fucking cares, and he goes back to Percy, grinning like a madman.

 

Then he goes, “I can shadow-travel!” And before Percy can marvel that it’s one of like, four times he’s ever heard him sound excited since Bianca died, he has an armful of Nico, who has leapt up and circled his legs around his waist and is smiling down at him enough to put Percy’s eyes out.

 

The Muppets break into their first musical number of the movie, Kermit the Frog’s felt green hands conducting humorously, and as Ali’ikai sees him, her eyes sparkle and she bounces and screams, “Kermy!” The same time Percy fits his mouth against Nico’s as quick as he can, like the fact that they aren’t kissing right then is an absolute travesty, and whispers, “ _You’re amazing_.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

So Percy convinces Nico to pay for the hotel room, which he does, after fifteen minutes and a very angry roll of his oil-slick eyes, and they gather all their baby junk, steal the Muppets tape against Percy’s better judgment, and slip through the shadow lanes back to camp.

 

It’s a little funny, because he’ll never get used to going through shadows, but Ali’ikai throws her hands up like it’s a roller coaster and she wants to go again, and Nico sighs, longing and happy, like it’s good to be home. They materialize in front of the Hades cabin, just as the sun goes down, and when Percy looks at Nico, he finds it very hard to look away or stop smiling.

 

Annabeth is contacted and told to bypass their hotel, Chiron is eager to see them back safe but not so eager to touch Ali’ikai (if he’s… scared, or nervous, or what, Percy doesn’t know), and the rest of the camp proceed to cram themselves right into Percy’s face for the following days.

 

“Does she have any powers? Did you see your dad?”

 

“Did you break up with Annabeth?”

 

“How do you pronounce her name? A-lee-a- _kay_ -ee? Is she the first Hawaiian Half-Blood?”

 

“How come Nico comes out of your cabin every morning?”

 

At first, Percy tries to answer all of them, but eventually Nico (“the hero Percy needs, but not the one he deserves,” he quips, later) tells them that Percy isn’t a carnival show and ushers them off to practice. He is a true diplomat, a great leader, and a fucking cutie.

 

“Don’t call me that,” says Nico, but when he turns away, Percy can see the small smile that creeps unto his lips.

 

Ali’ikai doesn’t have any powers. Well, Percy’s sure she does, but she isn’t exhibiting any right now. She’s turned into the camp’s baby, not just Poseidon’s, and they all sort of take turns caring for her in a sense. The Demeter cabin makes her baby food themselves, somehow, the Apollo cabin team up with the Hephaestus cabin to make her ‘freakin’ killer’ and _safe_ toys, and the Stoll Twins easily spend hours just playing with her and being entertained.

 

From what they can tell, she is the first Hawaiian Half-Blood, and after a few days, Nico disappears into his cabin and contacts the ghost of her mother. Percy isn’t there when he does it, but Nico tells him she’s grateful to both of them, and to camp, and even to Poseidon. Percy pulls him into his side and gives him a kiss to the temple and says he’ll pass that message along.

 

And yes, he did break-up with Annabeth, or, well, she broke up with him, but whatever. He starts telling people. He says that they should stop forcing them together and neither of them want to talk about it, so don’t jump on either of them, because it isn’t any of their business. And that night, Nico shadow-travels into his bathroom when he gets out of the shower and says that it was “Kinda alright when you got all bossy and told the campers what to do.”

 

Nico comes out of his cabin every night because he’s dating Nico, and when your boyfriend has the magical ability to appear inside your cabin without setting off the security harpies, you take advantage of that. Most of what they do in there is sleep and talk, though that time he walked in on Percy fresh from the shower he was a little eager to drop to his knees, but that’s Percy’s business, and nobody else’s.

 

When they’re in Percy’s bed, just sitting and playing video games like they did when Nico would shadow travel to his house the summer before the fight with Kronos, they talk about a lot of things. About places they should visit, about whether or not Paul and Sally are going to get married, about shadow-travelling to a Wendy’s and getting 20 things off their dollar menu to just hoard in their respective cabins the next few days. Until one day, they talk about Annabeth.

 

“She said she wanted to, uh,” Percy stops, jerking the remote control to the left like it’ll help Mario get there any fucking faster. “Shoot. Wanted to talk, I guess.”

 

“Uh huh,” goes Nico, squinting at the screen as Princess Peach zips in front of everyone else. Percy thinks the kid needs glasses the way he’s always narrowing his eyes at the TV. Then what Percy says hits him and he pauses the game. “Wait. Wait—you haven’t talked to her about anything, have you?”

 

“No, not really.” Percy shrugs, hiding his nervousness by way of gulping down a large sweet tea Nico had swiped for him (“Because I’m obviously the superior species of boyfriend,” he had said).  “I don’t know what she wants to say, I mean. What’s there to say?”

 

“’I’ve realized how perfect you are, oh gods, and when you flex, please come back to me?’” Dead-pans the son of death, indifferent as always, and Percy rolls his eyes at him before setting his controller down and clambering on top of him.

 

He likes that sometimes, he can sit in Nico’s lap. There’s some height difference, but Nico’s not in the business of being treated like a girl, and sometimes it’s nice to be cuddled ferociously, the way he was expected to do to Annabeth when they were dating. He moves some hair behind Nico’s ear, who does a pretty good job of not giving anything away on his face, eyes watching and showing nothing as Percy closes on him like a shark circling a seal.

 

“D’you know what I’d say to that,” he whispers into Nico’s mouth, who shivers in turn, but covers it up by clearing his throat, and Percy smiles. “I don’t think my boyfriend appreciates you watching me when I flex, Annabeth. He’s sort of the jealous type.”

 

That breaks Nico, and his arms move to circle around Percy as he rests his head on his shoulder, smiling into the nape of his neck. “You asshole,” he says, voice dripping with fondness.

 

And Percy laughs all the anxiety right out of his lungs as he places a firm, wet, obnoxious kiss to Nico’s cheekbone and chirps, “Love you, too.”

 

**|** Δ **|**

 

 

They meet in Percy’s cabin, since it’s the most private place, and Nico goes with him. He takes his boyfriend duties very seriously, and asks Percy what kind of man would he be if he let Percy go and face something he was obviously anxious about all on his own. It makes the grossest, most sappy feeling just spill through Percy’s veins, slow and sweet as honey, that he can’t imagine for an instant saying no.

 

He had worried about intimidating Annabeth, bringing Nico to their talk, but that flies right out the window when she walks in with Piper not to far behind. Percy’s not too surprised, because he gathers if anyone’s been helping her through the break-up it’s been Piper, close as they’d gotten after the war ended. He welcomes both of them, offers everyone in the room free cheetos, and they move on.

 

Annabeth looks just as anxious as he feels, and looks up at Percy, then Nico, then Piper, who smiles and brushes their knees together. She gulps, as the daughter of Aprhodite takes her hand.

 

“Percy, I just wanted you to know,” she says, and Percy cannot believe what he is hearing. Life is so funny, sometimes. “I… I mean I had to end it because. You’re awesome and my best friend and I’d do anything for you but—I mean—I’m gay.”

 

And Percy opens his mouth to have a long, meaningful conversation about how that’s okay, let’s talk about that, tell me about that, I’ll tell you about me, but, Nico – sweet, graceful, tactful Nico, death’s only son, bursts out one bark of obnoxious, shrill, harpy laughter that makes anyone in a 100-mile radius shiver, and, before throwing his head back and dissolving into fits of hysterical giggles, goes, “ _Nuh uh_!”

 

_fin_


End file.
